


Crimson Snow

by MrsAlwaysWrite



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - College/University, Assassins, Clueless Arya, College Life, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Jaqen is a Badass, Jealous Gendry, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Minor Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Minor Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, The Faceless Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-07-04 10:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 147,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15839082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsAlwaysWrite/pseuds/MrsAlwaysWrite
Summary: Arya Stark is a Sophomore at her University with goals to get through school and hang out with friends. Yet life seems to have other plans. She meets the mysterious and foreign Jaqen H'ghar who seems to be more than just a teaching assistant for her class. Soon she learns that things are never quite what they seem when a Faceless Man is around. Snow does not stay white when blood has been spilt.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Winterlyn_Dow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterlyn_Dow/gifts).



> This story is heavily inspired by the writings of Winterlyn_Dow, who has become my favorite fanfiction author. I have now become obsessed with an Arya/Jaqen relationship thanks to Winterlyn_Dow. I eagerly await the next chapters for (her?) stories and had to begin writing some Arya/Jaqen fluff for my own sanity. Thus this story is born. I hope you all enjoy the journey they will go on. In this story Arya is 19 and Jaqen is about 27 so they are much closer in age.  
> Comments, kudos, they make my day and further my writing speed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!  
> Thank you for taking the time to read this story. I hope you enjoy it and give me a shout out what you think!
> 
> Just a quick disclaimer:   
> Obviously I do not own any of the characters from Game of Thrones or anything belonging to the great George RR Martin. I just love the people he has created and will forever be in awe of him.

_It’s too early to deal with stupid people._ It was almost nine in the morning but Arya Stark’s tolerance for her fellow students was quickly waning. The high pitch giggling of two girls a few rows away grated on her nerves meanwhile some idiot kept bumping into the back of her seat. She momentarily wondered how much trouble she would get in if she punched the idiot but quickly rejected the idea. It was the second day of her sophomore year at the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities and all she could imagine was her mother’s facial expression when she received the call that her youngest daughter assaulted a fellow student. There would certainly be hell to pay. Her cousin, Jon, and his friend/roommate, Gendry, would never let her live it down and would probably start calling her a ‘wilding’ like they had when she was younger. She glanced down at her iPhone again, two minutes until class starts. Scanning the ever-increasing crowd, she was amazed by how many people were in this one course. She sat in the auditorium of the Bell Museum for the Intro to Research Methods, a requirement for those working towards a degree in Psychology. Her academic advisor told her this was one of the largest classes for those in Psychology. It was one thing to see the number on paper but another to see all the actual bodies of students filling up seats. There was to be well over five hundred students in the single class. She had arrived early, it had been ingrained in her from her mother that if you are not early, you are late, and chosen a seat a little closer than halfway to the stage and on the left side.

“Hey Arya! Can I sit with you?”

She looked up, her messy bun swaying on the top of her head, and shrugged. “It’s a free country.”

“Thanks, I got lost on the way here.” Poderick Payne sat down next to her, taking the seat next to the aisle. They had shared an Intro to Psychology class their freshman year so it did not surprise her to find him in this class. He was a sweet kid, a little socially awkward but genuinely friendly. There was something endearing about his slightly chubby face, dimples and sunny disposition although she would never admit it to him.

“Is that Professor Lannister?” Poderick, or Pod preferably, asked looking to the front of the auditorium.

“I suspect so. I’ve never seen him before.”

“I heard he is ruthless when it comes to grading.”

“Oh joy.” Arya moaned, just what she needed. Math had never been her strongest subject and taking a Psych math course…with a harsh grader… _Someone kill me now. Save me the torture of failing epically._ She studied the professor a bit more as he strolled over to the podium. Tyrion Lannister. He was short, actually midget short, with a thick forehead and slightly misshapen body giving the impression of an Neanderthal, but a short one. He was dressed professionally in a nice suit but no tie, the jacket open around his small stature.

“Excuse us.” A girl stated trying to slip past Arya and Pod to take one of the open seats in their row. Her friend slipped in behind her, except her body type was a bit more to maneuver. Arya noticed Pod blushing as the girl’s backside came close to his person. _I wonder if he has ever seen a naked girl before in real life._ The two girls sat one seat away from Arya, chatting about their next class. She thought she caught Pod giving a quick glance towards the girls but class started and she turned her attention towards the front.

“Good morning, class,” Professor Lannister began, scanning over the large body of students in his presence. He adjusted the mic on his suit jacket and continued. “Welcome to Intro to Research Methods, I am Professor Tyrion Lannister. If this is not the class on your schedule I would ask you to go ahead and exit before I begin my lecture.” He stopped, waiting expectantly. Three different students rose and hastily made their way back to the aisles and past the exit doors. “There is always at least two.” Professor Lannister chuckled. “We will meet every Tuesday and Thursday from nine to ten-thirty am. This will be a very math focused class so I advise you to bring paper and a pencil for working the problems but no one will be checking your notes so attend to them as you please. Now with this large amount of students I will not be able to give my attention to all of you so we have teaching assistants to help. They will be attending the lectures same as you, I hope, and they will have office hours in which you can seek them out. Let me introduce them.” A group of four students rose from the front row and turned to face the auditorium. “If your last name begins with one of the letters A through G, Jessica Smith will be your TA.” The athletic girl waved, a smile on her face, and her pixie cut bobbing. “Letters H through M will have Margaery Tyrell for their TA.” The blonde smiled, a flirtatious look about her, especially with the top she wore not leaving much room for the imagination as to what was underneath. “Letters N through S will have Jaqen H’ghar.” The man looked like he just walked out of a GQ magazine. He briefly inclined his head, piercing eyes surveying the crowd. His white forelock shifted with his nod then slid back to join his brown, chin-length hair. Arya was positive that ovaries were exploding all over the auditorium, possibly some balls too. _Guess I won’t be getting much help this semester. He will probably be too busy picking panties off the floor to really teach anything._ “Lastly, letters T through Z will have Brad Appleton.” The guy gave a weak smile as he adjusted his glasses. “Thank you, TAs.” The four sat back down, facing the professor.

“Guess we have the same TA, huh?” Pod whispered, leaning towards her.

“Yeah, lucky us.” Arya murmured, after catching herself biting her bottom lip.

Professor Lannister continued his monologue, “Their office hours and location are in the syllabus which is available to download online. I expect you to contact them through your campus email, please do not call the number provided, it will connect you to all the TAs for the Psych Department. Any questions so far?” He paused for a brief second then clapped his hands together. “Excellent, let us quickly skim the syllabus then onward to learning research methods.”

Arya clicked her pen, ready to begin taking notes. She chastised herself for glancing at the back of her TA’s head. _Seven hells! Yes, he is handsome but that won’t help you learn math. I should see if there is a tutor available._ She wondered if Jon or Gendry would be able to help her, they both were engineering majors so math was their forte. On second thought, they both were so busy with a senior schedule, she did not want to bother them with her extra problems. She huffed, drawing a confused look from Pod. _I wonder how much this class is going to suck._

 

After Research Methods, she had a couple hours to kill before her only other class of the day, Spanish. There was no one she recognized in the class, which was probably best for when she made a fool of herself, less chance it would come back to haunt her. After class, she jumped on the campus connector bus to West Bank then walked to her apartment. The sun felt invigorating on her face and she allowed the warmth to seep out the negative feelings of the day. Autumn in Minnesota was her favorite. The colorful leaves had not begun to fall yet, the temperature had a hint of summer to it still and she could pretend winter would never come. There were things about winter and snow she loved- snowball fights, sledding, hot chocolate, fires, holidays; but being able to walk around in just jeans and a t-shirt with sunglasses was soothing to her soul.

Her apartment this year was infinitely nicer than the dorm she spent her freshman year in. The best part was she was not having to pay a dime for it. Actually that made her initially uncomfortable but her roommate had brushed off Arya’s worries and convinced her that is what best friends do. Shireen Baratheon. They were unlikely friends from high school but a year as roommates freshman year solidified their friendship. Shireen was an only child so her father had no limit to what he would do or spend on his precious daughter. Stannis Baratheon was some big hot shot CEO something so money was not an issue.

Arya let herself into her apartment. Once the door opened an overpowering aroma of coconut and flowers invaded her nose. She coughed as she closed and locked the door behind her. Moving to the kitchen’s island, she counted at least six candles burning in close proximity.

“Shireen? What’s with the candles?” Arya dropped her backpack, heading to the fridge in search of something to munch on. “It smells like we are at a luau minus the pig.”

Laughter drifted from Shireen’s bedroom. “It smelled earlier when I got here. I tried to open the windows but I’m paranoid I’ll break them again.” Shireen came out of her room and sat in one of the chairs at the island. “I swear whoever was here last smoked two packs a day even though this apartment is supposed to be non-smoking. It’s going to take half the year to get the stench out.”

Arya had not paid much attention to it, there were worse things for her to get worked up about. “Are you heading out soon?”

Since her father paid for everything she could want, Shireen did not work but instead spent much of her free time volunteering. Currently she wore jeans and a cute blouse with her blonde hair pulled back in a pony-tail which usually meant she was working with kids. Otherwise she always wore cute dresses and skirts. She constantly tried, in vain, to lend Arya some of her dresses since they were the same size, both petite frame and just over five feet tall.

“I’m going to the homeless shelter this evening. We have a group for the kids starting tonight talking about emotions and how to properly handle them.”

Arya was pretty sure Shireen was an angel incarnated. She was a Family Social Science major, who eventually wanted to work with children with mental illness. With her big doe eyes, warm smile and gentle touch, the kids adored her and she adored them. It made Arya happy to see her friend find her place in the world and how she could make it a better place. Arya wished she had her life as much in order.

“You’ll have to tell me about it later. I’m going to try and get a head start on Spanish homework.”

“You got this. You’re better at it then you think you are.” Shireen smiled before drifting back to her room like the Disney princess she was.

Arya grabbed an apple and a handful of Oreos before walking to her room with her backpack. _Hey, I’m a college student, no one expects me to eat healthy all the time._ She jumped onto her twin bed, snuggling down into her flannel sheets and pulling out her laptop. Her room was sparse for the moment but as the year dragged along, things would begin to accrue. The only furniture was her bed and a dresser, the room was not big enough to accommodate much else. She had a small closet just inside the room, opposite of her bed. Within the few days of being here she had already begun to tape up pictures on the wall next to her bed. Although her family home was only just an hour away from campus, it felt better to have little reminders of her family and happy memories. On her dresser sat a stack of favorite DVDs she had brought along with a framed photo of her and her dad hugging on her 15 th birthday. That was the last photo she had taken with him before…well before.

“Miss you, dad.” She whispered then turned away before tears started forming.

Buzz.

She grabbed her phone to see who had text her. A smile lit up her face as she saw the name. Jon.

**Soccer Saturday morning, u still game?**

**Hells yeah.**

**Me & Gendry pick u up around 9:30.**

**Thanks snowflake.**

**Play nice baby sis.**

She chuckled at their terms of endearment. Jon was actually her cousin but having grown up living under the same roof, they preferred to call each other siblings. The anticipation of Saturday created the necessary drive for her to get a head start on her homework instead of delaying by watching YouTube and cramming all her work Sunday night. Saturday mornings, while the weather was decent and they found enough players, some of Jon and Gendry’s friends would meet up to play soccer or football depending on the mood. When Arya started at the U, she had been invited by Jon, to the displeasure of some, but she quickly became genuinely included as her sports skills shone, surpassing some of the older boys. The comradery, the adrenaline, fighting for her team to dominate the other and bleeding off the stress from the week, it had become what she looked forward to the most. Unfortunately it was only Tuesday and she had to make it  through the rest of her first week of school. Putting earbuds in, she turned on Imagine Dragons as she began sorting through her homework. _Gotta keep those grades up for the blasted scholarship._

 

* * *

 

 

Jaqen H’ghar turned the computer screen off before rubbing his eyes. He wondered if he would ever get used to staring at it as long as would be required of him now. His white forelock continued threatening to cover his left eye whenever he dipped his head slightly forward. It was an adjustment to get used to its current length, his auburn hair had been shoulder-length for so long but by the prompting of his Master had cut it to his chin. With that thought, he scratched his clean-shaven jaw, another feature he was adjusting too. Truly his appearance changed so frequently it should not bother him, when outside of the House of Black and White, he could be anybody with any appearance. Oddly enough, this contract, he had decided to use his real face and not a borrowed one. Why his real face, he was not truly sure. He had been sent on longer missions before, pretending to be someone else. This was his first mission in the United States of America, land of the free and home of the brave, or so the postcards said. There was no concern someone would recognize him.

He had been on campus a week now, adjusting to life as a PhD student. His campus information claimed he was a student from Heidelberg University in Germany, taking a respite from classes to obtain research experience under the famous psychologist Tywin Lannister and focus on his thesis work. The job working as a teaching assistant was set up as a work-study program so he could have a small income while here. His real motivation for being in the arctic state of Minnesota was less educational and more sinister. He thought back to his conversation with his Master, learning about the contract.

_“A man believed this Professor Lannister was a friend of the Order, is he not a help to the House of Black and White?” Jaqen, whom had not been given the name Jaqen yet for the mission, questioned, walking alongside his Master in the underground bunker._

_“Ah, so a man did believe but there is mounting proof otherwise.” The Master walked with his hands clasped behind his back, hawk eyes pointed downward at the concrete floor._

_The younger man looked over at the Master, his salt and pepper hair beginning to show in his shapely, trimmed beard. “Was this man’s death not prayed and paid for to the red god?”_

_“Yes,” the Master finally looked up at his former apprentice, “but a man must find if there has been treachery before giving the dead man his gift.”_

_“Just so.”_

So he had been sent to observe and spy, to play a role of gaining trust and access before the gift of death was given. _Valar Morghulis._

He glanced at the teaching assistant sitting behind him at his desk. Brad Appleton was lean, from lack of muscle strength than anything, with light, dusty brown hair, sharp cheekbones and glasses too big for his wide set eyes. Although they both were TAs under Professor Tyrion Lannister, the young man had made it clear he was not interested in social interactions. Especially after Brad noticed the long looks Jaqen received from their fellow, female TAs. The lack of potential relationship did not bother Jaqen, actually he preferred it. He did not need others to fulfill a sense of identity or desire for interconnection. Alone and self-reliant was how he had spent all of his life, even as an apprentice in the House of Black and White. Friendships were not discouraged yet neither were they encouraged since apprentices were often pitted against one another in combat. The loser usually having painful consequences. Fear and respect grew between the apprentices that moved up the ranks until they took their vows and joined the Order of the Faceless Men. Those apprentices without the skill, competence or fortitude to complete their training…their bodies would never be found.

Deciding he had played his charade long enough for the day, he grabbed his laptop and stuck it in his leather satchel bag. Murmuring a ‘Gute Nacht’ to his unresponsive officemate…flatmate…fellow TA, he walked out the door of their shared, cramped office into the long, white hallway of Elliot Hall. Two doors down he heard a high-pitch voice call a ‘good night Jaqen’ as he walked by. He thought about turning around and bidding the girl goodnight from the door frame but chose to ignore it. It would not take much effort for the Tyrell girl to end up in his bed. Although the idea amused him, the potential consequences held him back for the moment. It was not forbidden to fulfill carnal pleasures but getting involved in an unsanctioned relationship was. There was no time or place for love, in any form, amongst the Faceless Men. Duty must always come first. _Valar Dohaeris._

Taking a back hallway, he stopped to look at his phone, the appearance of answering a text message. Truthfully, his eyes shrewdly scanned the ceiling for the cameras in the corners. He could hear Professor Tywin Lannister talking loudly even through the closed door just three feet from where he stood. After a brief moment, Jaqen continued on his way, taking the back staircase. With the confirmed knowledge of the surveillance camera’s blurry vision, he began to finalize his plan of accessing the professor’s office to retrieve the needed information. He stepped out into the light of the setting sun and the chill of autumn’s air, heading towards his apartment on the other side of campus. _Tonight will be most beneficial and eventful._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I will be throwing in some German phrases/words periodically...as you read this chapter you will see why...but I do not speak German so if someone does and notices my words/phrases are wrong please let me know! I will not be offended in any way. Otherwise, hope you enjoy the next chapter. Comments and kudos are loved!

Arya leaned against the bar counter of the coffee shop, watching the last customer of the sudden rush walk out the door. The number of customers now would begin to trickle down to none as the night went on. At six on a Friday night, it was not coffee that college students drank to celebrate the weekend. She started at Caribou Coffee last year and was able to keep working this school year. She got on with her fellow co-workers well enough, only one passing into the “friend-zone” but she never felt ostracized or an outsider with the others.

“I’m going to pull bakery.”

Arya nodded, “Then you have to tell me about your summer…and if Tormund is still texting you.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and huffed. “I never should have told you.”

“It’s not hard to miss when he comes in here and stares at you with do-me eyes.”

Brienne’s mouth dropped open for a second before wrinkling her nose. It was comical to watch the giant of a woman flustered over a man’s attention. “Don’t ever say that again, please.”

Arya chuckled as Brienne walked into the back room. Brienne was the only one of her co-workers she had really connected with. They had begun regularly closing the store together last year and found they worked well together so had convinced their manager to let them continue the routine this year. Brienne was a junior studying physical therapy…or something like that. She was the tallest female Arya knew, well over six foot and broad. She was on the school’s weightlifting team and spent much of her free time in the gym. Arya would have thought she would be harsh and dim-witted like most of the school’s athletes she had met but Brienne was different. She was smart, shy, and soft-spoken, making her seem like a walking contradiction. Brienne was the shift supervisor and personally task-oriented so they spent some time talking but most was spent with Brienne cleaning and preparing for the morning shift. Arya helped out but never felt too bad when she played on her phone or did homework, Brienne did not care.

 Arya wiped down the counters, served a couple random customers and dated some items before noticing it was seven already. Her Friday shift started at four and they closed the store at eight-thirty pm, leaving the store themselves at nine pm. It was a good shift, most of it spent without customers, so Arya could not complain. She bent down to pick up a dropped cup when she heard the door open.

She stood up, preparing to plaster a smile on when she froze. _Seven hells!_ Her TA from her Research Methods class had stepped in and was quickly looking around. He seemed satisfied that no one else was around and continued towards the counter. _Gods, he looks good. Shut up! Stop thinking like that!_

“Hi, what can I get you?” She managed to get out, trying to seem casual once he approached.

He looked up at the menu boards then back down, making eye contact. _Damn, his eyes are bronze._ She was not sure if she had ever seen that color before. A faint smile touched his kissable lips. _Shut up! Stop thinking like that! You don’t know him._

“Black coffee?” His accent gave her a pause. She remembered that his name was odd but realized she had never actually heard him speak. There had not been a reason yet to go seek him out for help. She was surprisingly holding her own with understanding the math…for now. His voice sounded slightly husky with those two words coming out crisply like staccato. _Where is he from?_ Suddenly his smile widened slightly, still waiting for her and she realized that she had been staring at him awkwardly analyzing his voice instead of talking to him like a normal person. She felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. _Seven hells!_

“Sure, we just have a medium roast going, that ok?”

“Good.” He pulled out a leather wallet, reaching for cash. She grabbed the paper cup and filled it up from the brewer, silently berating herself for being an imbecile. They finished their exchange, he tossed the change from the total into the tip jar receiving an extra smile from her. He took a sip as he walked over to a table near one of the large bay windows.

Brienne decided to make her presence known, coming out from the back mumbling something about the mid-shift supervisor not able to count properly. They talked about their summers, neither one having done anything adventurous before Brienne decided they should start the nightly cleaning. Arya grabbed a broom and dustpan, having voiced her opinion long ago that she would rather sweep and mop than wipe down the fridges with the strong-smelling cleaner. It always gave her a headache afterward. She thought about the soccer game tomorrow. One of the guys last week had done a trick with the ball that Arya would kill to learn how to do. _What was his name? Beric?_ She would have to ask Gendry, he knew everyone.

 

Jaqen settled himself into the cheap, wood chair. The coffee was adequate, his preference would have been darker but it satisfied his craving. The past week had been…eventful. He thought of the papers at his apartment he needed to decode tonight before sending the information to his Master. Getting into the professor’s office had been simpler than he had expected, it was almost a disappointment. It had not been until the next night that he found where the professor kept his ‘extra-curricular’ information hidden away in a secret safe. The information, obviously, was coded but Jaqen enjoyed the challenge. Pitting one’s mind against another, the struggle and focus to decipher one’s opponent was as appealing as the same kind of physical altercation to him. The contest of the mind and the body.  Both invaluable if used accurately and with precision.

Right now, he meant to enjoy the newest addition to his collection. He pulled the book out of his satchel, running his hand gently over the cover. It had cost a significant amount to find this particular book and then have it shipped to his current location. It’s brethren resided in his apartment, having been read already. Possessions were a liability as a Faceless Man. One was supposed to remain unattached to anything so nothing would ever be used against you. Opening the cover and beginning reading the first page, he could not help a sense of pleasure as the words leapt into his mind. Could he give up the books if he had too? Yes. Could he build a fire and burn them if asked by his Master? Yes. Attachment was a liability. Attachment weakened a Faceless Man for it brought about a fear of loss. There was no rule however from enjoying the simple pleasures one could obtain when otherwise not engaged in the service of the Many-Faced God. He turned the page, breathing in the scent of the old book. A sole comfort in a life of chaos and blood.  

 

Arya peeked over at the hot TA… _Shut up!_...the overly handsome TA , _not any better_ , as he took a sip of his coffee, absorbed in reading, Arya was surprised it was an actual book, most people seemed to prefer iPads, tablets or laptops. The book looked vintage, the cover in excellent condition but without the modern artwork to grace its cover or back. As she slowly got closer while sweeping, she tried to subtly examine the title, her curiosity super-ceding her common sense. He was holding it at a slight angle so the cover and table formed a 90 degree angle. Moving one of the chairs at the table next to his, she swept around it then stooped down to pick up a wrapper stuck under the table. Before she rose, she glanced up, hoping to see the title better. _Ugh, it’s not in English._ A second glance caught her the author’s name- Alexandre Dumas.  _Interesting, I didn’t know a lot of people read him for fun._ Before she could rise, a pair of bronze eyes looked over the book and met her gray ones for the second time. There was no playing this situation off, he saw her staring at him…or more accurately, his book. _Seven hells!_

“Are you reading The Three Musketeers?” She faced him, standing up. If she was going to embarrass herself, might as well go all in.

“A girl reads French?”

“No, I recognize Alexandre Dumas then guessed based on the word ‘trois’ in the title.” _Gods, stop talking and just go back to sweeping!_

A broad smile revealed itself and he leaned back to really look at her. He had not paid her much attention when ordering his coffee besides noting that she was pretty. “A girl knows her literature. Does a girl read Monsieur Dumas?” Now analyzing her, he noted her gray eyes appeared more the color of steel, her bottom lip slightly fuller than the top, which she seemed to have a habit of biting. Something about her countenance and facial structure reminded him of a cat. Her dark hair sat on top of her head in a bun that was in fashion right now, looking like something a bird would use for a nest.

She shook her head. “I wish, my father did though.” Her overzealous curiosity caused her to ask another question before anymore talk of her father happened. “You aren’t French, are you?”

“What causes a girl to say so?”

“Your accent…I don’t know…doesn’t seem….Frenchy.” She bit her lip, realizing how stupid she sounded but really wanting to know the answer.

He laughed, eyes crinkling in mirth. “A man is German.”

“Oh! But you read French?”

“A man can read and speak many languages.” That was an understatement but she did not need to know that. The girl’s curiosity was charming and Jaqen found himself interested in their conversation beyond just being polite. _Who is this girl?_

She raised an eyebrow, impressed. Before she could remark upon that Brienne called over. “Are you done sweeping yet, Arya? We need to make sure and mop tonight. No one did last night.”

“Almost done.” Arya called back. She smiled at the very attractive TA, _gods, what is his name?,_  before continuing sweeping. He nodded his head then dropped his eyes back to the vintage book.

 

Arya was finishing up mopping when the door opened again. _Darn, someone is going to leave prints on my clean floor. Not that it mattered, they would get dirty soon enough._ It just slightly irked her that they did not have a chance to dry yet. Her back was to the door, focusing on the floor near the bar.

“Hey baby girl, nice legs. What time do they open?”

Arya briefly closed her eyes and sighed before turning around. _Why him? It had been such a nice day._

Ramsay arrogantly leaned against the counter, watching her lustily. His beady eyes undressed her and a maliciously, seductive grin sat on his face. Two buddies of his stood nearby snickering and stupidly grinning. She guessed they were heading to some party or bar nearby.

She grabbed the mop and walked behind the bar to put necessary space between them. He gave her the creeps. “First, you stole that line from the Fast and Furious movies. Second, I would gag if that line actually worked on anyone.” He laughed roughly, emphasizing how frequently he smoked. “What do you want?”

“You in my bed… or your bed. Doesn’t matter as long as you’re naked.” He winked, leaning further over the counter.

She rolled her eyes. “Either order something or leave. I’m not interested.”

Brienne came out from washing dishes. “Everything ok out here?”

“You still working with this guy? Oh sorry, that’s a woman. Never would have guessed.” The three laughed while Brienne’s face flushed red from embarrassment or anger, Arya was not sure.

“Ramsay, you need to go.” Arya demanded, crossing her arms in front of her.  

“I think she’s trying to play hard to get.” One of the two friends commented. “With lips and legs like that, I wonder what she is hiding underneath.”

“I’m going to call the cops now.” Brienne sputtered out, moving to grab the phone.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Ramsay raised his hands in surrender. “We’re just messing with you. Arya, I’ll see you later, bae.” He winked again then they strutted their way out. One of the guys kicked a chair causing it to crash loudly on the ground.

Jaqen subtly watched the interaction, ready to intervene if he thought the action was called for. The three boys, by their actions and speech he refused to think of them as men, would take no longer than two minutes to incapacitate. They were not fighters, all bravado and talk, easy enough to dispatch. His fighting skills were legendary amongst the Order. It would not even be a warm-up to fight them. _Why does a man feel he needs to intervene? They mean nothing to you._ It was true, he did not know the two girls behind the counter to feel obligated to stand up for them. The steel-eyed girl had peaked his interest but it was not enough to constitute being her protector. He had stood vigilant while witnessing worse crimes than harassment during his many years as a Faceless Man. Why did the boy’s comment vex him so?

Arya waited a heartbeat before rounding the counter and righting the chair. A slew of colorful words describing Ramsay and his behavior cycled in her mind. _I hope they get drunk and hit by a car._  Actually that was too good. _I hope they get drunk and jump off the bridge and drown._

As she walked by him, Jaqen softly spoke. “Is a girl safe?” His eyebrows were slightly furrowed but that was the only physical indication of concern. _She is not apart of your mission!_ He tried to tell himself that he would do this for any girl if he witnessed her being harassed. _Lügner!_

She had noticed him intently watching the conversation but did not want him worried about her. “Yeah, he’s just a jerk that thinks no means yes. We had a class together last year so he thinks he knows me.” _I can take care of myself._

His bronze eyes stared into hers as if assessing her truthfulness. In reality, he was searching for what suddenly drew him to her; why did her safety matter to him beyond the care given  strangers in times of crisis?

Subconsciously she bit her lip, wondering what he saw. After a moment he inclined his head, then turned back to his book. She made her way back to the counter when she heard the door open. The TA walked out the door, his satchel slung over his shoulder. _Did I offend him?_ His concern was kind but unnecessary. She sighed, done with the male species for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

“Stop killing me, dammit! Where are you?” Gendry complained, tossing a nearby shoe at Arya.

She just laughed, dodging the flying footwear and focusing her attention back to the TV. It was Saturday, a day for fun and relaxing. Which ironically, today, entailed headshots, stabbings and grenades. Arya was over at Jon and Gendry’s house playing Call of Duty. They had come back from soccer already, eaten some frozen pizza and begun their ritual gaming. The house was actually an older two-story house just a few blocks away from campus. It sported five bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and back patio which turned out to be a reasonable price split between five roommates. Currently Arya, Jon and Gendry sat in the living room with its consignment furniture, outdated wallpaper and large flat-screen TV….priorities.

“How’s it feel being annihilated by a little girl?” Jon joked, his gray eyes glued to the screen.

“Hey!” Arya exclaimed. “Watch how many times I kill you now!”

“Oh shit! I gotta get ready.” Jon paused the game with his controller. He passed it to her, seated next to him on the couch. Although only cousins, they looked more similar compared to Arya’s brothers and sisters. They both had high cheekbones and dark brown hair with the Stark lineage attributes of gray eyes and pale skin. “You still need the car today?”

“Yeah, I’ll drop you off.” Gendry replied from the floor.

“And pick me up?”

“That was an honest mistake! And only one time. You just can’t let it go.”

“Nope.” Jon barely jumped out of the way as Gendry tried to trip him. “You two finish. I’ll shower quick.”

“Hey! Am I taking your laundry?” Arya called after Jon, ascending the stairs.

“Yeah!”

Gendry moved to Jon’s vacated spot next to Arya. His broad shoulders taking up more space then Jon’s had. Gendry looked more of a linebacker, big and strong, while Jon was more a long distance runner, slender and fit. “We can drop Jon off then I’ll drive you to your apartment.”

“Thanks. Wanna keep playing or you too scared?”

“Oh, it’s on.”

They played for a bit longer before Gendry, frustratedly tossed his controller and tackled Arya into the couch amidst her laughter and taunts. Over the years, Gendry had found a spot in her pack of brothers. Jon and Gendry met in middle school and after finding out he was a foster kid, began to spend more time at the Stark home instead of his own. Arya rubbed the top of his head, enjoying the buzz cut he now sported instead of the shaggy black locks which erupted when he went too long in between haircuts.

“Come on, milady.” Gendry helped her off the couch.

She shoved his chest, causing him to smirk. “Don’t call me that, stupid bull.”

Once Jon was ready, they gathered up the guys’ dirty laundry and stuck it in the trunk of Jon’s Honda Accord. An arrangement had been made that Arya would do their laundry in exchange for the ability to borrow the car or one of them would chauffer her when needed. It definitely was more in the guys’ favor but she did not mind. Her apartment had a washer and dryer in unit and there was something strangely relaxing about folding laundry. It was a mindless task but kept her hands busy. Plus it also gave her the opportunity to swipe some of their shirts for her own attire.

Jon worked in downtown Minneapolis at a fancy hotel as a valet. It was not the most meaningful job but he had been working there a couple years now so he had good connections. Plus, he made great tips. Arya joked it was only because he was handsome and the rich ladies like to ogle him. Gendry and Arya dropped him off then headed towards her apartment on West Bank. With Jon out of the car, Arya turned on the radio and began scanning her favorite stations. Jon had a weird thing about the radio, saying they never played anything good, it was always the same twelve songs repeated over and over. When she rode with Gendry, he let her pick whatever she wanted and allowed her to turn the volume up way too loud. Occasionally he would join in loudly singing if he knew the song but he usually just drove, laughing as she rocked out in the passenger seat.  

Soon they were back to her apartment, but they stayed in the car until ‘Counting Stars’ by OneRepublic finished on the radio. Otherwise it would be stuck in her head all day, not that it was a bad song, she quite enjoyed it. She held the doors as Gendry carried the two duffle bags of dirty laundry. It amazed her that neither one had an actual laundry basket but who was she to judge. Well, sometimes judge. When she opened the door, the stench of overly fragrant flowers attacked her sense.

“Ugh!” Arya noticed the multitude of candles burning again. She raced over to the island and hastily blew them out.

“Who died? Smells like a funeral.” Gendry commented, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Shireen?” Arya ignored Gendry as she stormed over to her roommate’s room. She threw open the door to find it empty. _Where is she? How dumb was she to leave candles burning when she wasn’t here?_ That girl was going to get a piece of her mind later.

“Where do you want these?”

Arya bit her bottom lip, still upset with her friend for such a stupid, dangerous action. “Wherever.” She flapped her hand, closing Shireen’s door.

He tossed the duffle bags next to the kitchen island then fell, collapsing onto the plush couch, the only large furniture item. He made a great show of getting settled, ending up with his hands behind his head. “Your couch is so much better than ours. I could fall asleep.”

“You can try, but with the washer going, I don’t know how quiet it’ll be.”

“Worth a shot. What are you going to do now?”

“Ugh, probably start on homework. I have an essay due already for my Lit class that I haven’t started. I stupidly agreed to help at work tomorrow so I can’t push it off much longer.” She came around and sat on the coffee table facing him. He was attractive, she could not deny it. He had vivid blue eyes, like a clear, sunny day and a charming smile with dimples that magically appeared. Occasionally she noticed when he gave her an extra dazzling smile, her insides twisted. Nothing would happen between them though, he was like a brother to her. Truthfully that meant more to her than a potential for romance. He was a great guy and would be a good match for someone. Besides, she was not interested in a relationship right now. They took more time and effort than she was willing to give up. Plus with the way her last relationship ended, she was not ready to open up like that again.  

“Are you kicking me out, milady?”

“Stupid.” She leaned forward and punched his arm. “After that, I think I should.”

“Ow.” Rubbing his wounded arm dramatically, he rose. “When did a little girl like you learn to throw punches like that?”

“Having four brothers plus all the neighborhood boys. Also, you’re a wimp.”

He laughed before easily picking her up and dropping her on the couch. She pretended to scowl, brushing her dark hair out of her face, but the laughter bubbled up anyway.

“Out! I’m officially kicking you out!” She got up and walked with him the few steps to the door.

“As my milady commands.” His blue eyes twinkled, waiting for the reaction that always came after he used the despised nickname.

“Good-bye, stupid bull. Don’t forget to pick up Jon tonight.” Before she closed the door, he gave her a two-finger salute and started walking away. She locked the door behind him then turned to look at the duffle bags. Perhaps she should start washing those, she was not sure how long until the clothes turned rancid, but based on previous experience, not too long.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone reading this! My goal is to post chapters twice a week, but I can promise at least one chapter a week. I have a short conversation with some German, if anyone notices misspellings or lost-in-translation please let me know! Comments and kudos make my day! :)

Another week flew by and Arya found herself at her Friday evening work shift standing idly by. They had already had their late afternoon rush so the slow, quietness of the remaining shift was sinking in.

Buzz. Her pocket vibrated. Arya glanced around quick, noting no one looked like they were walking up. Only one customer was sitting on a couch, headphones in, watching a movie. Brienne was in the back doing dishes. She sidestepped behind the espresso machines and pulled her phone out. Shireen.

 **Hey girl! Can I borrow some tampons? I forgot to get some at the store. I’ll owe you.** The number of emojis she used in the text was overwhelming.

**Don’t worry about it.**

**You’re the best.** There were way too many smiley faces attached to the message. **Also, what are you doing tomorrow night? I know this hot guy who I think you should meet. He’s going to a party that I was invited too.**

Arya groaned. Shireen seemed to take a particular interest in Arya’s love life. She claimed she wanted to be able to go on double dates but it felt more like she just wanted to torture Arya. Before she could respond to the text, the front door opened. Glancing up, she saw the sexy TA walk through the door. _Gods, stop it! His name is Jaqen!_ During the week she had made a point to look up his name, even though it did not seem to help her internal dialogue with its use of adjectives to describe him. He set his satchel down before approaching her…well coming up to order something.

“Hey. Black coffee again?” She could not help but smile. He wore his typical dark wash jeans and button-down long sleeve shirt, his hair framing his face emphasized his striking features. _Seven hells! Stop staring!_

He raised an eyebrow. “A girl has a good memory. Ja bitte.”

“I try.” She grabbed his coffee and took his cash. Again, he dropped the change in the tip jar before taking a seat by the windows. He pulled the same book out from last week, sipping occasionally as he read. Not long after, his phone must have rung because he pulled it out of his pocket, answering.

 

Jaqen was surprised when his phone began vibrating in his pocket. He was not expecting a call. Glancing at the number increased his surprise. _Why would he be calling?_

“Ja?” The simple statement alerted the caller that Jaqen was in a public location. Had he been somewhere private, he would have answered differently. It was a simple enough method for identifying safe times to discuss a subject.

“The caretaker died last night. Brain aneurysm.” The brother assassin stated emotionless, his English accent sounding flat.

Jaqen set his book down slowly onto the tabletop. “Vielen Dank für die Nachricht.”

“Yes. A man will light a candle for you.”

“Danke, Bruder.”

Click.

Jaqen replaced his phone in his pocket before rubbing his hand across his chin and mouth. His chest felt tight, a heaviness having descended upon him. His gaze turned to the windows but his mind’s eye saw the elderly woman from the House of Black and White standing in her kitchen, scolding him as a young boy for burning the dinner he was supposed to be helping make. She had hit him across the back with the wooden spoon in anger. He laughed about it later but in the moment was terrified. Another memory flashed by with him and his brother assassin as teenage boys habitually sneaking into the kitchen to steal some of the sweet, cinnamon bread that was cooling overnight for breakfast the next morning. In recent years, Jaqen had begun to wonder how stealthy the two boys had been and more accurately the elderly woman purposely leaving the bread out to fulfill the boys’ mischief.

He had entered the House at the tender age of eight, having seen and experienced too much pain and abuse to be considered innocent anymore. The elderly woman had given him special attention, gifting him treats when the Master was not looking. She became the closest thing to what he thought a mother should be, his own blood mother having been a poor example. And now she was gone. _Valar Morghulis._ If he expressed a range of emotions he would have shed a tear for her but it had been trained and beat out of him to not show these emotions. So he sat quietly, remembering her, remembering how she had helped strengthen a broken boy with the occasional swat of her wooden spoon and the quick smile as if they shared a great secret.

 

Arya was wiping down syrup bottles as she glanced over at Jaqen talking on the phone. He definitely was not speaking English, probably German. The conversation was brief yet the effect on him was subtle and definite. His shoulders slumped slightly. Having set his book down, he gazed out the window running his hand over his mouth and chin. Something pinched within her watching him. _Distress. Something about the call made him sad._ They were not friends but for some reason she wanted to do something to help.

Spontaneously she grabbed a bakery item, stuck it in the oven to warm it before putting it on a plate. Last minute she grabbed a fork before walking over to his table. He looked up when she set the plate down on the table, an unmasked look of surprise on his face.

“What is this?” He asked softly, watching her.

“Cinnamon coffeecake.” She shrugged. “You looked like you could use something to cheer you up.” There was no way she was going to admit that the cinnamon reminded her of the way he smelled. During the week she had wondered if he used a cinnamon deodorant or Red Spice, something to give off the cinnamon smell. She turned to step away before she did or said anything to embarrass herself further. _He probably doesn’t want it. He is probably is one of those guys who is on a weird diet._

Fast as lightening, he gripped her wrist. His eyes bore into her, demanding answers she would not know the questions too.   _Has the Many-Faced god taken a moment to show kindness to one of his own? Did this girl know what she was offering him? Did she have any idea how touching her action was?_ He could smell the cinnamon radiating from the sweet bread and the painful nostalgia diminished. A genuine, thoughtful smile touched his eyes as he held her in place. “Danke, Schönes Mädchen.” He breathed out, as if a weight was released off his shoulders. She would never know how much her action meant to him. The tightness in his chest lessened and he felt the heaviness decrease. The waves of sadness never crashed over him, he was too controlled for that, but he mentally stepped away so the waves would stop hitting his feet. He released her wrist, wishing he could truly convey his gratitude.

 

She blinked several times, trying to clear her head before mumbling a ‘you’re welcome’ and moving to the relative safety behind the counter. Between his stunning eyes and grip on her, she was not sure if she could have moved if she wanted too. Not that she had felt inclined at the moment. She pondered the interaction before noticing her phone had buzzed. Four missed texts from Shireen.

**So what do you think? I promise he isn’t weird.**

**Are you upset? Why aren’t you texting me?**

**Arya, its ok to have a bf!**

**Text me back!**

Arya quickly responded. **Sorry, got busy. Not this week, maybe next.** Glancing up, she could see Jaqen eating a bite of the coffeecake, a hint of a smile on his face as he read his French book. She wondered what the ill news was. Not that it was really any of her business. Later, she took her turn doing the dishes so she missed his exit but next to his plate he had left a small handwritten note that said, in quite elegant handwriting, ‘Thank you for the kindness. It was delicious.’ Oddly, she did not want to throw it out so she folded it and put it in her back pocket to think about later. Or frequently over the next week when she had a spare moment to think. _Gods! Focus on school, stupid girl!_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kick. Kick. Kick. Oops. Arya retrieved the soccer ball before continuing practicing keeping the ball up in the air using only her feet. She was patiently…alright, semi-patiently waiting for Jon and Gendry to finish their lunches. The day was beautiful, so in between classes the three had found a spot in front of Walter Library to soak in the sun. There were a lot of other people out sitting in the large grassy expanse, some playing frisbee, doing homework or taking a nap. One person was actually practicing tricks while on a unicycle. This was college, you never knew what you were going to see.

“Are you two almost done?”

Gendry continued to scarf down what looked like a burrito, hopefully that is what it was, while ignoring her. Jon wadded up his trash and comically tossed it at her, it falling only a foot away from him.

“Five minutes to rest.” Jon complained, laying back in the grass, throwing an arm over his face. “My head is stuffed with equations and numbers.”

She thought about throwing the ball at him but realized she would never get it back if she did. “You might be in the wrong major then, brother.”

He gave her a pointed view of his middle finger to which Gendry snorted. Arya continued with the soccer ball, bouncing it between her feet. She was on her best run yet when she lost focus for a moment and it rolled away, farther than she would have preferred. _Seven hells!_ Trudging over, she grabbed it then looked up to see Jaqen H’ghar walking down the path in her direction. They had not made eye contact so she wondered if she should slink by or say hi. _Hi, by the way, you may be the most handsome man ever. Shut up!_ She slowly rose, holding the ball against her side. _Please let me just sneak away._ Too late, she glanced up again and this time their eyes met. The looks he received as he walked by, actually he walked with quite the swagger, ranged from innocent, doe-eyes to lustful, take-my-panties-now eyes. She bit her bottom lip. _What am I going to say to him? Well, don’t say anything stupid._

“It’s Arya, yes?” He asked when he approached, one hand holding the strap of his satchel over his shoulder, the other’s thumb in his belt loop. A moment of elation had coursed through him when he saw her in his path. _How odd._ He decided he would have to puzzle it over later.

A shiver went down her spine at hearing her name glide off his tongue. The way he said it sounded like his lips caressing her name before sending it forth. _Damn him and his sultry voice._  “Yeah, how did you know?”

He smirked. “A girl wears a name on her apron at work. Is that not always her true name?”

She blushed. _So much for not saying anything stupid._ “Oh right, I forget I wear it.” At the moment she wanted nothing more than to repeatedly hit her head against one of the nearby brick walls.

“It appears a girl does more with her time than coffee and Psychology classes.” He nodded  towards the ball she carried.

“Yeah, soccer is my favorite sport…Do you play?”

“Unfortunately a man has not have the pleasure. His head has been stuck in too many books to find time.” He lamented teasingly, eyes warm. In truth, the formative years in which most children learn a sports skill he was learning how to kill using various methods. A sudden image of the girl before him playing soccer popped in his mind and he mused over it, the image appealing.

She relaxed. “Maybe I could teach you sometime.”

“A man would enjoy that.” A smile lit his face. _What a delightful creature this girl is._

She momentarily wondered what he did for fun, besides reading. She was not sure why but she got the feeling he coveted his time and would not engage in something unless he desired it.

“Arya!”

She looked behind her to see Jon and Gendry both standing up, staring at her with confused looks. She sighed aloud before catching herself.

He noted the two men watching her, one looked similar to her in countenance and wondered if they were related. “A girl must rejoin her friends. Auf Weidersehen, Schönes Mädchen.” He inclined his head, eyes never leaving hers. He wished they could have spoken longer, the kindness she had shown him several day ago had been on his mind as of late. He wished to properly thank her besides a quick handwritten note but was unsure of how nor his true intentions behind it.

“See you later.” She smiled before turning around and heading back to her bewildered brothers. The idea of teaching Jaqen to play soccer was interesting and a part of her hoped he would take her up on the offer. Although she was very competitive, she would try and take it easy on him…if he seemed to be struggling.

“Who was that?” Jon asked, watching Jaqen walk into the library.

“He is a TA for one of my classes.” She shrugged, deciding not to mention their interactions at work.

“Uh huh.” Jon looked back at her with his gray eyes, examining her, his tone clearly stating he did not believe her. “We have about half an hour before your next class.”

Arya slapped the ball before dropping it at her feet. “Let’s play.” She never backed down from a challenge.

 

* * *

 

 

Jaqen stood at the window a moment longer, watching the lovely girl kick the soccer ball with her friends. Laughter rolled easily off her tongue as did the occasional insult at her companions, causing a corner of his mouth to turn up. Finally he forced himself to step away and take a seat at a nearby table. His thoughts has turned to her, more frequently than he would have liked, over the past several days. Each step of hers radiated life, a fight to thrive. When he had asked weeks ago if she was safe after the black-hair boy, _Ramsay, was it?¸_ harassed her, it had been obvious the way she tensed. Although her words were kind, he easily read the signs. Back off. She seemed fiercely independent. She did not need nor desire his help. It had made him want to chuckle, which he guessed would greatly vex her. He wondered if that was her natural tendency or if life had given cause to embrace independence. Life had a way of finding its victims with impunity.

He roughly rubbed the back of his neck, trying to bring his focus back to the laptop in front of him. Currently, his time was to be used on coding videos for the research project. Brad offered to take the videos if Jaqen coded and assigned them. It was not a difficult task but redundant. He chose to get out of the office while Brad had his office hours with students. The office had a feeling of claustrophobia, never having been a fear of Jaqen’s before. _A good night for a drive._ That thought lifted his mood. A week ago he discovered a lonely stretch of highway to the northwest of the Twin Cities. It took a few hours to reach it but the time had been worth it. The revving of the engine, spinning the tires on cement, the smell of burning rubber, it thrilled him. Nothing compared to the feel of speeding down the highway, well over one hundred miles per hours, dancing with danger and ecstasy. His coupe, purchased for his time here, had been modified to fit Jaqen’s need and love of speeding through the night air. It was a terrible habit, almost an addiction, that fought against his Facelessness. Yet careening down the isolated highway, headlights off and the feeling of flying, of speed, it intoxicated him. It was dangerous. It was reckless. It was freedom. It was one of the few things he did for his own pleasure.  _Yes, tonight a drive is necessary._ Since the conversation the prior night with his Master, he felt tense. The conversation was curt and purposeful yet afterward he itched for the feeling of wind against his face.

_“A man has found the numbers and accounts you seek.”_

_“Good, and…?” The Master was never one to mince words._

_“The dead man has been moving money for us for many years, yes?” Jaqen understood that the Professor was involved somehow in the relations of the Order. When he found the incriminating information that exposed his allegiance to the Order’s finances and how he helped keep them hidden from the world, Jaqen was shocked and displeased._

_“Just so.”_

_“He has been helping himself to a certain percentage more than commissioned.”_

_“Ah, a man feared. This confirmation will have dire consequences for the dead man.”_

_Jaqen wondered what had prompted his Master to begin to distrust the Professor but kept his questions to himself. “There are other accounts the dead man has access to, may a man have permission to investigate?”_

_“Ja. Continue to search and watch. A man will speak again to you in due time.”_

Jaqen did not expect to hear from his Master for some time. The call the prior night had surprised him but he was pleased to have something to share. His Master was a harsh man who expected results. He wondered how much longer his Master would allow the Professor to be breathing before giving the signal for the dead man to be silenced permanently. His death had been prayed and paid for to the red god. _Valar Morghulis._

“Hey, Jaqen.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement to the pretty girl, one of the students who had visited him recently at his office hours. She gave a little wave with painted red nails as she passed by him amongst the tables. _I wonder if the lovely girl would paint her nails?_ He pushed the thought away quickly. _Why does this particular girl invade a man’s thoughts so? She is nothing. She means nothing. The mission is what is absolute._ He focused on his laptop again. His job was to give the gift and that was all that matter. _Valar Dohaeris._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovely readers! A huge thanks to all those who have given kudos or comments. I cannot begin to describe how meaningful it is! So this chapter is a little bit shorter but its quite crucial and I wanted to give it its fair due.  
> Also not to give a spoiler but...*trigger warning for attempted rape*. This will be the only warning I plan to give in this story but I would hate to trigger past trauma for someone.  
> Y'all are the best! Hope everyone had a good weekend!

Another Friday night rolled around and Arya leaned against the bar talking with Brienne. Arya had arrived to her shift with Brienne extra prickly and snapping orders which was unusual for her. She decided to wait to ask about it until it was just the two of them and the afternoon rush had finished. Brienne valued her privacy. Arya did not want her to feel as if she was invading it. She genuinely was concerned for her friend.

The last customer was walking out the door when Arya cast her eyes over to Brienne, rinsing out a blender at the bar sink. “Alright, what’s going on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You are clearly upset about something. Spill.”

Brienne glared at her then turned away. “It’s nothing.”

“My ass…tell me, you’ll feel better.”

She purposely looked around, giving herself an extra few moments to debate if it was worth it. Finally she slumped slightly and looked at Arya. “Tormund asked me out again.”

“Why is this bad? I thought you were trying to get over Renly.”

“Yeah…but not like this.”

Arya raised an eyebrow. “What do you have against Tormund? This is the what…fourth? Fifth time he has asked out?”

“Fourth.”

“I thought you said he was a good guy. You used to like when you would pair up for practices.”

Brienne ran her hand over the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact.

“Brienne, Renly is gay. As flaming gay as they go. You have got to stop moping over him.”

She shifted, looking down. “I know, it’s stupid. He’s been my friend for so long. I should have known.”

“Why won’t you go out with Tormund?”

“I don’t want to be a conquest…to be tossed aside when done.”

Sympathy filled Arya. She knew of the cruel jokes about ‘Brienne the beauty’ from some of the guys. “That’s fair. From what you’ve said, I don’t think he would. But maybe you’re right, he shouldn’t be your rebound guy.”

Brienne shrugged, clearly still miserable. “Why are the good guys gay or taken?”

Arya chuckled lightly. She thought of Jon and Gendry, who clearly were not gay, having found a pair of lacy panties in their laundry. She had pointedly asked them about it, saying she was not washing girls’ items for them. Neither one had confessed so the mystery remained for her, not that she was genuinely inclined to want to know. Her eyes drifted to Jaqen, sitting in his spot by the window, working on his laptop this time. _I wonder if he’s gay or has a girlfriend? Not that it should matter to me. Just curious._ She looked back at Brienne. “Guys are idiots.”

A hint of a smile touched her lips for the first time that night. “Yeah. If you’re good, I’m going to put away the order.”

Arya nodded then pulled out her phone to begin scrolling through social media. She could clean later. A picture of her beautiful, red-headed sister popped up, arms around her boyfriend in Chicago. Arya groaned. _Sansa can do way better than Joffrey. He is such a jerk to her, I don’t know why they are still together._ A few other pictures of different friends and family caught her attention but nothing noteworthy. Most of the pictures and posts on social media screamed fake to her so she did not indulge in it often. She preferred her few, true, real friends to the multitude of fake ones online. _I should not be so harsh. It’s good for some people._ She thought of her younger brother, Bran, and how it helped him. He was in a wheelchair so attending  a regular school was possible but difficult. Mentally, he had scored in the genius category so attending a normal high school was out of the question. Their mother had found an online schooling program that could cater to him and actually challenge him. He had made friends through the school, even so far as having a “girlfriend” but it really was more of a friendship across the country, who texted way too much.

The rest of the shift passed quickly. Only a few late stragglers came in. Jaqen gave a brief nod when Arya called ‘good night’ and waved to him before he walked out the door. She chastised herself for the pang of sadness that hit her chest when she did not receive a smile. _It doesn’t matter. Doesn’t it? Shut up!_

Once they closed the coffee shop, Arya parted ways with Brienne as she walked towards the bus stop. The stars twinkled delightfully and the cool, night air caused goosebumps to appear on her arms. Fall was definitely here now. She was going to have to start bringing a jacket with her. At the last minute she decided to skip the bus stop and walked to the next, wanting to enjoy the night air a bit more. Actually, she was delaying returning to her apartment. Shireen and her had worked out an arrangement that Tommen, Shireen’s boyfriend, could come over and they could have “alone” time until ten in the evening, in which it was then safe for Arya to return. So it gave her an hour to kill after getting off work. Normally she would lounge in the foyer at the apartment building or head to the library. Tonight, though, the coolness of the air reminded her that winter was coming and she would not be able to be outside for much longer without a winter coat, snow boots and the increasing chance of frostbite. She took a back street, behind the row of loud bars, making her way towards the river to walk along. The rowdy, drunk cries of those coming out of the bars amused her but she paid them no heed, thinking about tomorrow’s soccer game.  So lost in thought about her excitement to use her new trick she learned that she did not pay attention to the footsteps coming up behind her.

“Hey baby girl…”

Arya whirled around to find Ramsay too close for comfort and reeking of beer already. _Where did he come from?_

“What are you doing here all alone?”

Disgust and annoyance clouded her voice. She did not want to deal with him. Why could he not take a hint and leave her alone? “Get lost, Ramsay.”

He reached out and snagged her wrist, beady eyes unblinking. “Why should I do that?” He licked his lips. “I know you want me.”

“Ha! Seven hells! You’re drunk. Let me go!” She tried to pull her hand away but he held fast. Suddenly he grabbed her chin and crashed his lips against hers. The taste of cheap beer and cigarette smoke assaulted her senses. Reacting unconsciously, she bit his lip hard and shoved him with her free hand. He released her, taking a step back.  

Anger lit his eyes when he looked at her. “Stupid bitch!”

Panicking, Arya turned to get away. He roughly grabbed the backpack she was wearing and ripped it off her, causing her to stumble and lose her balance. He seized the neckline of her shirt, stretching it as he drew her up. He shoved her against the brick wall next to them. Her face scrapped against the uneven texture. She cried out as she tried to fight back. She twisted and tried to kick him. He pinned her painfully with her chest against the wall. Trying to grab anything to use as leverage, she reached back but he held her against the wall with his body and used his hands to pin hers above her head. He was a good, almost foot taller than her and stronger so her feeble attempts were proving useless besides making him more angry. Trying again to kick him, she miraculously managed to get his knee causing him to curse loudly in her ear and buckle momentarily. His hold on her did not loosen. _Gods, no! Please no!_ She was a virgin, not that he knew that but this was not how she wanted her virginity to be taken. Not that even if she was not a virgin, she would want this. She continued to struggle, unwilling to make this easy for him no matter what. She was a fighter. He took her two small wrists in one of his hands. Then he grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her head against the hard wall. Momentarily dazzled, she tried to headbutt him but he slammed her head painfully twice more, growling and swearing at her.

She was seeing stars and the edges of her vision were beginning to blur. A tugging on her leggings announced his intentions and brought her focus back. She screamed. Only earning herself another strike on the side of her head against the brick wall. Her vision was disorientated and she could taste blood in her mouth.  

 

A scream echoed off the brick buildings. Before he consciously told his feet to move, Jaqen was running towards the sound. _It is nothing. These college kids are loud and are probably having too much fun._ His feet did not stop though. Something drove him, what, he did not know. His sense were on high alert. As he rounded the corner, his eyes hastily scanned the street where he heard the scream come from. His training kicked in. He found the source of the scream in moments. A freight train could not have stopped him as he barreled down the street. He saw the two figures in the shadow of a building. Catching a glimpse of the persons, his heart skipped a beat as he recognized the victim against the wall. _Lovely girl?_ In the movies, the hero would come charging in with a roar and in one solid hit take down the assailant. But that was not Jaqen. He was no hero. _I am darkness. I am a dealer of death._ _Valar Morghulis._

Jaqen silently approached the fight. He was aware of his surroundings, that the boy did not have companions nearby to help him. Time slowed. His attack was flawless, as usual. Like a dance but with pain for the partner. He kicked the back of one of the assailant’s knees. As the boy began to crumble, his hold loosened slightly. Just enough. Jaqen viciously wrapped his hand around the boy’s throat and threw him down. Slamming onto his back, the boy chocked out a cry. A rapid glance showed the lovely girl falling to her knees against the wall. Red colored Jaqen’s vision. Red of anger. Red of blood. He pounded mercilessly into the boy’s face. The blood in his vision began to sprout from the boy’s face as his hits drew blood. His hand was still on the boy’s throat. It would be so easy to give the red god a life right now. The boy deserved far worse. He almost gave in. Taking this life would be simple. Walking away from his corpse would be easy. The red in his vision demanded it.  The piece of his conscious that maintained awareness of his surroundings called for his attention. A half sob, half cry sounded from behind him. He turned to see the lovely girl trying to rise to her feet but collapsing, holding her head. The red vanished and he raced to her side. _Schönes Mädchen_.

The next moments were a blur that she was sure she would never fully recall correctly. Arya tried to get to her feet. Her balance was askew and she began to tip precariously to one side. A warm set of hands suddenly held her steady. The smell of cinnamon and his white forelock was all her mind could scramble to interpret before his foreign, husky voice penetrated the gloom of disorientation on her mind.

“Ganz ruhig, Schönes Mädchen.” He murmured, helping her onto her unsteady feet. Some small part of her realized her ass was exposed to the air. She gingerly pulled her leggings and panties back up, not really paying attention to her actions. The ground seemed to be lurching underneath her dangerously. Hands moved from under her arms to hold her face. Dark eyes staring into hers. In the streetlight, his eyes appeared the color of dark chocolate while his white forelock seemed to glow.

“Can you hear me?”

She blinked, eyes unfocused. Her hand drifted up on its own accord and gently ran her fingers through his forelock, twisting the glowing hair around her own pale digit.

“Arya?”

His gentle shake snapped her mind back from wandering aimlessly. Her mind was able to focus on his face now, to see the furrowed brows, the tightness of his lips, and the line on his forehead. “Jaqen?”

His relief was physically evident. “Yes, lovely girl. Let us get to the hospital.” In the streetlight he could see the blood along the side of her face and head. She was shaking, eyes dilated. He worried she had a concussion if not something far worse. The desire to pull her into himself, to hold her until the shock passed arose within him. It startled him. _Was ist los mit mir?_

Her reaction came out much more strongly then she would have imagined but everything still felt altered, like her mind was unable to correctly judge how to react. “No! No hospital, please!”

“A lovely girl is hurt.”

“I…I’m fine…I hate needles…I’ll be ok.”

She needed to be examined. He knew it. In any other situation he would have demanded it. Seeing the blood on her face and the fear in her eyes, he hesitated. A shift happened within him, not by choice and he could feel his will, his power cease. He could not tell her no, nor abandon her. He moved to stand by her side, allowing her to lean on him as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders tenderly. “Come.”

She followed his lead, unsure why she implicitly trusted him. Yet she did. He saved her, but it was more than that. She could not put it into words. It was a feeling. He reached down and grabbed her backpack, tossing it over one shoulder before resuming his arm around her shoulder. They walked back the way she had come, she was not really paying attention. Her mind was in turmoil. Sensations were beginning to slowly come back to her attention. Her head was pounding.  Her face and arms hurt where they had been scraped against the wall. Suddenly she leaned over and retched on the sidewalk, luckily away from Jaqen. After, she could still taste the faint traces of blood and vaguely wondered if she should be worried. Jaqen held her hair back that had once been in a bun but now hung like a dead thing against her neck, part of it having escaped the tie. When she finished, he tightened his arm around her shoulders, continuing to lead her. Although her head still throbbed, her vision was returning to normal and her thinking was clearing up. She noted they passed by the coffee shop and walked down another street, going further away from the sounds of drunken part-goers and car horns. They stopped in front of an apartment building as Jaqen pulled out a set of keys. The building looked nice but it was hard to tell in the streetlight. It seemed they were entering through the back door which confused her.

“Where are we going?”

“A man’s place, so he may attend to your wounds.”

“Oh. Why aren’t we going through the front?” She was not sure why that was suddenly important to her.

He smirked before answering. “There is blood on a girl and a man would rather not draw attention to it if she still refuses to go to a hospital.”

She nodded, following him inside. The bright florescent lights blinded her and she rapidly threw a hand over her eyes. She tried desperately to focus on anything else beside the pain residing behind her eyes. The heat radiating from his body, arm still around her, guided her along the blinding hallway felt oddly comforting and reassuring. _He saved me._ A surge of gratitude hit her and she placed her head on his shoulder.

“Fast Da, Schönes Mädchen. Almost there.” An elevator ride and down another hallway, they finally stopped in front of apartment number 412. He opened the door and then locked it behind them before guiding her to a leather couch. Turning a lamp on behind her, Jaqen moved away. She could hear him in what she guessed was the kitchen behind her. The dim light was a relief from the florescent lights of the hallway. She blinked, rubbing her temples, hoping to coax the headache away. Glancing around the room she sat in, she was amazed by its Spartan furnishings. There was a short coffee table in front of her and a flat screen TV on a stand against the far wall. There was nothing hanging on the walls.

Jaqen came around from behind her, holding a glass. She murmured a ‘thanks’, taking it and the aspirin he held out to her next. Quickly she swallowed the two pills and chugged the water, clearing the last tastes of bile and blood from her mouth. He sat across from her on the coffee table, watching her warily. Her shaking had subsided but she felt like she could collapse at any moment. 

“Thank you.” She looked up at him, holding the glass in both her hands. “You…you saved me.” Tears pooled in her eyes before she had a chance to fight them. She bit her lip as her breathing became shallow and the emotions finally raised their heads in her mind. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I never…he…I never thought he would.” She stifled a sob before it escaped her. “Thank you.” The torrent of emotions overwhelmed her and somehow she managed to place the glass down before covering her face with her hands as sobs racked her petite, pained body. A pair of arms found their way around her and she vaguely realized he had moved to the couch beside her before pulling her against him. She turned her head into his chest and allowed the emotions to flow freely. Anger. Fear. Hurt. Terror. Vengeance. They each took their turn filling her core until she felt utterly spent and empty. She could hear Jaqen murmuring something, his check pressed against the top of her head. Somewhere between the sound of his heartbeat against her ear and her sudden, overwhelming exhaustion, sleep took a hold of her and she fell into a dreamless, deep slumber.

He held her close, face pressed against the top of her head. _Not for comfort. To make sure she is still breathing._ When sleep took her, he felt her body collapse against him. Carefully, he shifted so he was leaning against the back of the couch, with her across his chest. He would have liked to clean up her wounds, to check the damage. Hearing her soft breathing, he resigned himself to monitor her until he felt sure the head trauma was minor. Sleep and rest were the best medicine for her now. He managed to pull out his phone from his pocket, taking note of the time. A sigh escaped from her lips as she burrowed herself further into his chest. His arms, instinctively, tightened around her small form. He thought of her storm gray eyes, the easy side-smile that changed her countenance when appeared. She was fierce. She was a fighter. He witnessed it in the street as she fought against her assailant futilely. Yet there was compassion within her. He thought of her bringing him the sweet treat to lessen the sting of pain. It had not been pity in her eyes. It was a shared sympathy. Few in his years had been able to read him the way she easily did. And it frightened him. What power did she possess to read him so easily? His life had been a training of guarding one’s emotions, not allowing others to see or read them. _You are No One. No One does not need anyone. No One survives._ Watching her secretly, life radiated from her. She did more than survive, she thrived. She was a fighter. _Wer sind sie, Schönes Mädchen_?

He monitored her for several hours, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against his. It had lulled him into a state of silence and stillness. He never feel asleep, he had too much control for such an action. Their breathing, their heartbeats, those were the only sensations he focused on. In the early morning hours he felt safe to move her, although a faint part of him regretted it. With utmost delicacy, he cradled her in his arms like a child. She never woke as he brought her into his bedroom and laid her on his bed. Her eyelids fluttered but she remained in a dream state, oblivious to the man watching her with fondness. Quietly, he drew the quilted blanket from the closet and draped it over her sleeping form. In the dim darkness he admired her pale skin, the curve of her neck and the fullness of her lips. Her hair was scattered about her as if a dark halo encircled her head. _Sie ist wunderschön_. He had always noticed that she was pretty. Tonight though, blood and tear stains on her cheeks, pretty no longer defined her. Abruptly he turned and exited the room, closing the door softly behind him. He stood outside the door, running his hands through his hair. _The mission. Remember the mission. You are Faceless. You are darkness incarnated. You are a servant of the Many-Faced god._ Watching her lying in his bed, having felt her heartbeat for several hours competing with his, he could feel it growing.  The desire for more. To be more. He stuffed it down. He thought of what his Master would tell him to do. _Kill or walk away._ Tomorrow he would walk away. From her. From the feeling of wanting to be more. He walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and the bottle of whiskey he kept in the cabinet over the refrigerator. He needed a drink.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry, I meant to post this last night but time got away from me. So here is the next chapter, please let me know what you think. A huge thank you for everyone who has left kudos and especially comments. You guys don't even realize how encouraging it is!   
> A particular shout-out to Catuen for helping me with my German translation! You're the best!   
> I'm planning on posting the next chapter on Saturday. :)

_Stillness. Breathe. Stillness. Breathe. Stillness._ The mantra circulated in Jaqen’s head. He leaned with his back against the counter in the kitchen. The colors of the morning were just starting to taint the blackness of the sky. In the darkness of the apartment, for Jaqen had no need for lights yet, he tried to find the stillness inside him drilled in by years of training in the House of Black and White. His sleep had been short, only granting him three hours of peace before his natural circadian rhythm awakened him. It was both a blessing and a curse. He hardly ever needed an alarm clock but in the times he would have loved to sleep further, his body never allowed it. His time already had been spent with his usual morning work-out routine and eating his breakfast. Typically he would have loved to shower but he did not wish to disturb the girl in his room, so he chose to forgo it this morning. He lamented that his laptop was in the bedroom. He needed something to distract his mind.

His mind had played the night over and over already like a broken record. If he had chosen to take a different way to visit the dead man’s office or had chosen to drive his car, would anyone have heard the lovely girl’s scream? He rubbed the back of his neck. It did not matter now. She was safe. When he awoken, he checked on her, even after swearing to leave her be. She had rolled onto her other side, facing the door. She was curled almost into a ball, the blanket magically still tucked around her. After confirming she was still breathing, he silently left and closed the door. It would be hours before she woke up. He tried to summon the stillness back to his mind but the image of her being attacked broke through. He clenched his fists. If he ever saw that boy again… _No, that is not your gift to give._ Oh, but he wished it was. He could not deny it. If the girl prayed for the boy’s death, he would gladly give it to her. He would surely make it slow and painful. The different ways he could accomplish that paraded across his mind and a slow smile planted itself upon his face. _If she does not ask though?_ Then he had to restrain himself. He thought of his favorite brother, covered in tattoos, much to the disapproval of the Master. The English accent he never could quite shake influencing his tone as he would chastise Jaqen for his restraint. Jaqen was known amongst the Order for his self-control, no matter the emotion normal in the situation. He prided himself upon it. His tattooed brother teased him when the Master was not around, saying him should give in to the lust of easy blood occasionally. He had never been one to gain full control of his emotions, particularly rage.

He shook his head, clearing it of the thoughts of his brother. _Did he light the candle for me as promised?_ No matter now. His ears perked for a moment, thinking he heard movement from his bedroom. He waited to see if the lovely girl would appear. When she did not, he sighed, forcing himself to be content to wait for her. She needed to rest. He turned his thoughts to his continued plan for the dead man and gleaning the information he desired from him. The professor had his dirty hands in many unscrupulous organizations it appeared. He wondered what else he would uncover before his time to give the dead man the gift.

Arya peeked her eyes open then groaned. Her head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. She thought about trying to drown it out by sleeping more but when she rolled over to snuggle deeper under the covers…they were not her covers. Immediately she sat up then quickly grabbed her head before it spun off her shoulders. Once she could focus, she looked around her surroundings, trying to remember where she was. Memories of the previous night pieced together as she registered she must still be in Jaqen’s apartment. _Jaqen._ _My protector? How will he react to seeing me now? How has our relationship changed? Not that we have a relationship._ Truth be told, she was nervous. When she could think beyond the pounding headache. She continued to look around his bedroom, seeing what she could learn about the man. His room was just as sparse as the living room. She sat up on the full size bed, black comforter underneath her and a soft, quilted blanket covering her. There was a wooden nightstand and lamp beside her, a small closet across from the bed and a small table next to the doors. Several vintage-looking books sat on the table, next to his satchel and laptop. Again, no pictures or any décor on the walls.

Slowly Arya rose, assessing her pain as she stood up. She was barefoot but a quick scan did not show her shoes in the room. Her leggings seemed to have surprisingly held up somewhat ok, her slouchy, long-sleeve t-shirt was less than desirable. The neckline had been stretched so both shoulders peeked out and there were small tears along the front covering her chest and stomach.   _Damn him!_ She shoved the emotions down before they could rise up again. _Later, when I am alone._

With her initial assessment done, there was no more reason to stay hidden, however much she would have liked. She cautiously opened the door and stepped out. The kitchen was straight ahead, the few steps needed to enter it. Jaqen was leaning against a countertop, eyes closed, soaking in the sun that poured in from the open window. She was reminded of the hints of red in his auburn hair when the sunlight touched it. As she stepped out, he opened his eyes and looked at her. The bronze in his eyes glistened in the morning light.

“Guten Morgen, Schönes Mädchen.” He moved towards her, like a planet in a gravitational pull. He had to touch her, reassure himself she was…she was well.

“Good morning.”

He touched her right cheek gently, eliciting a cringe from her at the painful touch. A slight frown touched his lips but he betrayed no other emotion. “How does a girl feel?”

“My head feels like a war drum, but that’s the worst…thanks to you.”

“Perhaps a man could help with that but first, there is a towel in the bathroom if a girl would like to clean herself up. A man will find a new shirt for her.”

Muttering something she stepped into the bathroom just to her right in between the bedroom and kitchen. She turned on the light, closed the door then gasped when she looked in the mirror. It looked like someone had taken sandpaper to the right side of her face, particularly her cheek. She cautiously rinsed her face, trying to scrub the flecks of dried blood and dirt off. When she finally finished, it did not look as terrible but a couple patches of bruises were more evident. The underside of her arms had some scraps but luckily her shirt protected her from the worst. There was some faint bruises around her small wrists. She stood there rubbing her wrists when a knock on the door pulled her attention back. She opened it, taking the top from Jaqen with a thanks before closing it. Gratefully, she yanked off her abused long sleeve and replaced it with the red, fleece sweater he gave her. It was not thick and hung long on her, the bottom touching her mid thighs while the sleeves hung past her hands. She could not help but breath in deeply the scent of cinnamon that enveloped her. _Maybe his laundry detergent is cinnamon?_ Her hair was a mess and she hastily threw it in a messy bun on the top of her head. Finally satisfied she looked better than she had ten minutes ago, she stepped out carrying her abused top.

He was pushing the plunger down on a stainless steel French press as she entered. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “Better?”

“Much. Thanks for the sweater.” She tossed her shirt onto the back of the couch. Unsure what to do she slid onto a bar stool, next to a long counter jutting out, separating the kitchen from the living room.

“Your head still pains, yes?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

“May a man help?”

“Sure…?”

Calmly he walked over behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Delicately he massaged them, drifting along her shoulders up to her neck and back down. Without permission, a soft moan escaped her lips and her head fell forward. The tension ebbed away as he worked her muscles, massaging and pressuring purposefully with all she could think of as pressure points. _Gods, his hands are magic. Where did he learn to do this?_ At one point his hands traveled down her arms to her hands, pinching the space between her pointer finger and thumb. She would have been upset if she was not already so relaxed. After that he stepped back and came to lean across the counter from her. Slowly she lifted her head back up and rolled her shoulders.

“Wow, thank you. That feels….amazing. My headache is gone.”

“Bitte.” He inclined his head as if in a mock bow. The bruises and cuts along her face and wrists had not escaped his notice. He found he had to quickly repress the rising fury at the attacker for harming her. “Coffee?”

“Do you have cream?”

“Apologies, a man has milk and sugar only.”

She smiled. “That’s fine.” He poured some of the contents of the French press into a mug for her then passed over the sugar bowl and carton of milk. She could not help but notice her mug had the Minneapolis skyline across the bottom while his had the outline of the Minnesota state in a woodsy theme. _I wonder what tourist shop he got these from? Maybe Mall of America?_ Adding a hint of milk and sugar, she stirred her coffee with a spoon given then took a sip…and almost choked. She sputtered slightly but managed to swallow it down.

“A girl does not approve of a man’s coffee? A man is hurt.” His tone was teasing, looking over his own mug of coffee, black.

“Seven hells, you like it dark and bitter.” She added generous amounts of milk and sugar before trying to again. “Mmmm…I bet you eat the dark chocolate that’s like eighty percent cocoa.”

“Eighty-five percent.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. _Dark and bitter…_ That casual statement described more about his preferences and life than she could possibly understand.

She smiled, amused, looking around. He wore what she had deemed as his “casual” look- dark wash jeans and a black, nicely fitting, t-shirt. What he wore when he come to the coffee shop. When in class she noticed he traded out the t-shirt for a nice, long-sleeve button-down that looked professional.

Spying a sliding glass door she thoughtfully got up, still cradling her steaming mug. It granted her a view of downtown Minneapolis, overlooking the Mississippi river.

“May I?” She gestured to the door. He nodded, unmoved. Careful not to spill her coffee, it was actually delicious now, she opened the door and stepped out. The crisp, morning air and sun hit her, reviving her soul more than she would expected. She found herself upon a small balcony with an intricate wrought iron fence. It was maybe ten feet long and four feet wide, small but still able to situate two plastic chairs and a plastic table comfortably. Leaning against the railing, she admired the view. The buildings rose majestically out of the morning fog, the sounds of the river would be heard faintly and the morning sun kissed her face.

He watched her glide outside, the sun silhouetting her frame. He had to banish his thoughts as he watched her standing there in his sweater, thinking of a different kind of circumstance in which she would be gladly wearing an article of his clothing. It was wrong, so very wrong for the thought to cross his mind after what almost happened to her last night. He hated himself for even letting the image enter his mind. She looked almost peaceful standing there, absorbing the morning sun, cradling the mug in between her small hands.   _Beauty and strength._ Waiting for several minutes, he finally gave into the urge to follow her.

She had not heard him come up beside her until she opened her eyes and saw him. “This is beautiful.” They stood there in peaceful silence for a time, watching the slowly-waking city before them and sipping their coffee. She barely knew the man beside her now beyond a few sporadic conversations and yet she found herself watching a morning sunrise on his balcony. _Odd where life takes you._

“I should probably head back to my apartment. My roommate is probably wondering where I am.” Actually she had not thought of Shireen until that moment.

“A man will drive.” He took their empty mugs, placing them in the sink before gathering his keys and wallet. Arya spied her backpack and shoes next to the front door and placed her destroyed shirt into it. He led her to an attached parking garage. In the daylight she could see that the apartment was definitely more upscale than she would have expected from a teaching assistant. _Maybe his parents are super-models or actors in Germany. It would explain how ridiculously handsome he is. Shut up! Well it would._ His car was a Mercedes-Benz silver coupe, very elegant and speed-demon looking. Chivalry apparently was not dead yet because he made sure to open the car door for her. Actually, she noticed he made sure to open every door for her. _Does he think I’m weak? I’ll show him what us Starks are made of._ He was generously driving her back to her apartment complex so she repressed the rising angst. The interior was exceptionally clean and elegant. Looking at the clock on the dash-board screen, it read nine twenty-eight. When they arrived, he parked and she leapt out of the car before he could get around to open her door. He walked her up to the main door of the apartment building, ignoring the stares from the few runners and morning birds that were out already.

“Thank you again…for everything.” She bit her lip, shyness creeping over her which was odd for all that had just happened in the past…what, twelve hours?

“A girl is most welcome.” Gently he reached up and ran his thumb over her hurt cheek. He had to let her go. Even though she had never been his. _The mission is absolute. You are No One. You need no one._ “Good-bye, Arya.”

Between the delicate touch and him saying her name, a shiver went down her spine. “Good-bye. See you around?”

“Just so.” He smiled, momentarily stopping her heart before stepping back and walking to his car. She waved as he drove by and watched him pull out before making her way up to her apartment. Alone now, a new wave of exhaustion hit her. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to curl up under her covers and sleep. The emotions she had repressed earlier began to bubble up.

Opening the door, she prepared to head straight to her room but was prevented by the three persons whose faces were ranging from anger to relief.

“Arya! Where have you been all night? I’ve been texting you!” Shireen cried out, running over and hugging her, practically in tears.

“I’m ok.” She tried to comfort her friend.

“What happened to your face?” Jon stood before her, arms crossed, eyes staring intently. “Whose shirt are you wearing?” Gendry stood off to the side, relief clearly painted across his face by her presence.

Arya let go of Shireen and slammed into her brother just before the tears began to fall. He held her tightly as she cried. She felt so stupid for crying…again but the leftover emotions from last night did not seem to have another way to escape. Finally she managed to briefly describe the night in between hiccups. She glossed over much of her time with Jaqen and who he was, just claiming an anonymous friend from work. When finished, Gendry had come to stand closer, a mixture of horror and pain on his face. She stepped out of Jon’s embrace to hug him..

“I’m so sorry we weren’t there.” He whispered into her ear, pulling her tightly against him.  

“Its not your fault.”

“If I ever see the bastard, I’m going to kill him.” Jon vowed, gray eyes darkening in rage.

“I won’t stop you.” Arya pulled back to look at Jon, Gendry’s arm still around her.

He chuckled menacingly. “Let me call the guys quick, tell them we aren’t going to make it to the game.” He held a hand up, stopping her oncoming protest. “You need to rest, and the least we can do is keep an eye on you today.”

She nodded, pleased she would not have to spend the day alone nor have to hide her emotions. Gendry moved her to the couch, plopping down beside her. She appreciated his warmth but could not help the stirring in her gut when the scent of cinnamon touched her sense causing her to think on her protector.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos! Thanks for also staying with me on this journey. In all honestly, this story will not end anytime soon. It keeps growing in my mind. Plus a slow burn is always agonizing and fun. Have a great weekend! :)

The weekend dragged by, more because of the sporadic headaches than the lack of privacy. Since she walked through the apartment door Saturday morning, between Jon, Gendry and Shireen, she had not have a moment’s peace to herself. She knew they hovered because of concern and care for her but by the old gods and the new, if they thought she would allow it a moment longer once the week came they were going to be in for a surprise. Gendry was concerned she received a concussion and wanted to take her to the hospital, fighting her on multiple occasions for to her go. Jon initially agreed with Gendry but eventually came to her side, he hated needles and doctors even more than she did. Shireen had been a fairy godmother, flittering around making sure Arya was comfortable, always had water or something to snack on. She even set her alarm to check on her at certain intervals during the night. Well actually, Jon had threatened for Arya to sleep in his bed so he could keep an eye on her during the night but Shireen offered to do it instead. Arya was not sure she had ever appreciated her friend more than in that moment. She wanted her bed, her pillow, her blankets. Truthfully, she continued to wear Jaqen’s sweater because it was soft and smelled delicious. _It smells like him, admit it. Yes, ok! It makes me feel safe._ Saturday night plagued her with occasional nightmares. Instead of inspiring fear, they strengthen her resolve. She would not be that helpless again. A new fire burned with her core. Somehow she would make Ramsay pay.

 

Monday finally rolled around and life returned somewhat to normal, besides Jon texting her frequently asking how she was feeling. She thought about sending him a picture of her middle finger but then decided to play nice. _He does this because he cares. You would do the same if he got hurt. Probably._

Before her afternoon Spanish class, Arya made the trek to Elliot Hall, the building for the Psychology department. She had looked up the syllabus and found Jaqen’s office hours and room number. Taking the elevator to the third floor, it took her a few minutes to get her bearing and figure out what direction his office was. There was a rumor that the building had been designed to mimic a rat maze as so often used in early Psychology studies. It certainly felt that way with its plain, white, brick walls and abrupt hallways. _Poor rats._ Finally she found the room, with the door slightly ajar. Voices drifted from the inside so Arya leaned against the wall across from it and pulled her phone out, content to wait. It was almost two in the afternoon. His office hours supposedly ended at two. She continued to play her ongoing game of chess on her phone, enjoying trying to outsmart the computer or whatever was controlling her opponent’s pieces. Her father had taught her to play, so she always thought of him and his advice when moving the rooks, pawns and her favorite, the queen. After several minutes the door opened and out walked a bleach-blonde that would make Pamela Anderson proud of the rack on her chest. The girl did not even glance at Arya before high-stepping down the hallways towards the elevator. Arya rolled her eyes before looking at the open door. Jaqen had his back turned, shuffling some papers on his desk.

Unsure, she stepped in. “Hello.” The room was small, just slightly big enough for the two desks facing away from each other, the hideous couch and a small bookshelf overflowing with textbooks and scattered papers. A quick glance at the other desk caused her to assume it belonged to the other male TA, who was thankfully absent.

He spun around to look at her, a smile on his handsome face. “Arya, come in.” He motioned to the short, ugly couch next to his desk against the wall in which she took a seat. Surprise permeated within him but what disturbed him more was the hint of, _could it be joy or relief_ , that slinked in along with the surprise at seeing her. The past two hours had been arduous but seeing her sparked something within him.

“How does a girl feel?” Jaqen slid in front of her, on his rolly-chair. He gently touched her only slightly bruised cheek with his thumb. The physical damage from her assault a few days ago was healing well. He wondered how that night was affecting her mentally. _Does she fear? Does she have nightmares?_ The questions remained in his mind. _She is nothing. The mission is absolute._

“Much better.” It took all of her self-control to not lean into his warm, calloused hand. “I brought your sweater back.” She eagerly opened her backpack and retrieved the article of clothing after he removed his hand. Placing it on the desk next to her, a piece of her was sad to lose it. _Its so darn soft and warm. Maybe I can convince Jon to buy one and then I’ll steal it. You could just buy one yourself. That’s not the same!_

“Danke.” He moved the sweater to the other side before facing her again.

_Here goes nothing._ “I also have a favor…or maybe a request to ask of you.” His eyebrows rose slightly but he did not speak so she continued. “I saw a little of what you did to Ram…him…and I was hoping, well wondering if you could teach me. Only if you want. I can always watch stuff on YouTube but it seems better to learn in person.” She bit her lip to stop her rambling.

He rubbed his chin and lips for several long moments, leaning forward. He studied her. _Does she know what she is asking?_ He had told himself to stay away from her. _How can I deny her this? With what she went through, how can I refuse her desire to protect herself?_ His eyes were calculating as he took her in. She seemed nervous, hesitant but a ferocity lay hidden behind her stormy eyes. She wanted this. He noticed she sat up straighter, releasing her lip from her teeth as he debated internally. There it was. That fierceness he witnessed and admired. She refused to be a victim. _Beauty and strength._ His resolution to stay away abated within him.

“A girl wishes to be able to defend herself, yes?”

“Yeah…I don’t ever want to feel…that…that helpless again.”

He hesitated. “A man will do this, but if a girl wishes to learn, it will not be easy. She must be dedicated and trust a man’s judgement.”

“I promise.”

He sat up straight, an almost sad smile on his otherwise neutral countenance. What would the consequences of this arrangement be? “What is a girl’s number?”

She started, initially caught off guard by his request. _How else is going to contact you? Don’t be stupid._ She said her cell phone number as he put it into his phone. Without having his eyes boring into hers, she looked around the tiny office space, noting the bag of take-out from Erbert’s and Gerbert’s. She did not know why but she found it funny. She imagined he would be more…fancy with his meals. 

“Did you get a sub for lunch? I have not gone there yet, the line is always too long. I usually just get Chic-Fil-A.”

He glanced from the trash can back to Arya before shrugging. “A man’s time has not allowed him to eat yet.”

“It’s past two already!” Her shock shown through. Without thinking, she reached in her backpack and pulled out an apple and granola bar. They were going to be a snack for after Spanish class and before her work later but she could find food at work. “The apple is Honeycrisp so you should enjoy it, it’s the best kind of apple there is. Well, it might not be as bitter as you like but its Minnesota’s state fruit so you have to try it at least once.” _Stop rambling! Seven hells, just shut up!_ She stood up, embarrassed but really needing to start walking if she wanted to make it to Spanish on time.

He rose when she stood, their proximity never wavering. “Danke, Schönes Mädchen.” The blush on her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment, to which he found…endearing? Here she was again helping him, even in something as simple as eating. Long ago, he had learned to tune out the hunger pangs if the situation called for it. He controlled his body. Seeing the food, he could feel his stomach rumble. _A man may soon be in her debt if she continues this._ The thought made him smile. A debt he enjoy paying back.

She waved dismissively. “I always have some kind of food with me. My brother says I eat as much as a high school linebacker.”

“A man guesses that is much?”

A giggle escaped her lips before she caught herself. _Stop acting immature! He really will not want to work with you if you act like a child._ “Yeah, I really do need to go. Hope you like it.”

“A man is most grateful.” The sound of her giggle pleased him. It was a bit throaty, not like the typical high-pitch of most women he was around. Nothing about her was typical of the women he had been around.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later.”

“Good bye, Arya.”

She quickly walked out, suppressing a shiver from hearing him say her name. _Gods, why does that happen every time?_ A sense of accomplishment filled her,  pleased that he granted her request. She was going to learn self-defense, or at least something like that. Class was starting just as she slipped in, finding her seat towards the back. They had not agreed on a time to meet yet but she understood he was busy so she did not want to seem pushy. He was doing her a favor. Maybe she would watch some YouTube videos while waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

“Here we go! Get’em while their hot!”

Arya tossed her Literature book on the couch behind her before settling onto the bar stool. She grabbed a fork from off the counter and began digging into the pan of brownies before her.

“What flavor are these?” Shireen asked, coming to stand to Arya’s right. She grabbed a fork and began to dig in, exuberantly.

“Caramel fudge. The secret is the type of caramel you use.” Hot Pie announced after swallowing a bite of the brownies he just made to share.

“Mmm…these are delicious.” Shireen covered her mouth politely as she chewed.

“Yeah, much better than those marshmallow bars you made last time.” Lommy commented, pushing his stringy, yellow hair out of his face.

“I thought they tasted good.” Hot Pie pouted, his bottom lip popping out.

“Don’t forget to put the lasagna in.” Arya licked the gooey caramel off her finger.

“Oh, right!” Hot Pie set down his fork before grabbing the two pans of lasagna he made and putting them in the oven. .He was a robust-looking boy with plenty of extra padding, probably due to his love of cooking, but he was strangely nimble and graceful when moving around a kitchen. Otherwise he was typically a huge dork and clumsy.

“How much do we owe you?” Arya asked. Arya and Shireen had met Hot Pie and Lommy in the stupid class that all incoming freshman had to take. Hot Pie began to infuse the girls into his life, namely making them food or having them try new recipes he made. It was a stress-reliever, he claimed, but Arya did not care. He was a far better cook than she was. Lommy was Hot Pie’s best friend so he usually just tagged along. When Hot Pie found out the girls were getting an apartment with a full kitchen, he insisted on coming over as often as he could to cook and bake, promising to make enough to share and have leftovers. Lommy and him were still in dorms with only microwaves for cooking, so Shireen and Arya gladly accepted the offer. Today, Hot Pie claimed, was worthy of celebrating, hence the delicious brownies, because they were a month into their Sophomore year at the University. 

“Nothing. Next time you can contribute.” Hot Pie answered, a sweet smile on his plump face.

Lommy ruined the moment. “He just wants to see your brother and friend shirtless again.”

Bits of brownie sputtered from Arya’s mouth before she could control her reaction. Hot Pie stood frozen, red-faced, mouth hanging open from the candor comment. Shireen kept her doe-eyes downcast, a dainty smile upon her face.

“What? It’s true.” Lommy shrugged, reaching forward from the bar stool next to Arya and spooning a piece of brownie from the pan. He was lanky and seemed to be born without a mental filter, saying whatever came to mind, particularly if it was negative.

“Asshole.” Hot Pie muttered, turning around to check on the lasagnas.

Arya’s phone buzzed beside her, flipping it over, she saw an anonymous text.

**When is a girl free to begin her lessons?**

_Jaqen_. It had been two days since she met with him in his office, asking for his help. She had begun to wonder if he would ever contact her.

**Monday or Friday evenings work best. If you are busy then, I can try and rearrange my schedule. Maybe Sunday?**

Shireen had begun discussing Halloween costumes with Hot Pie. It was officially October now so Shireen was allowed to divulge into her favorite holiday.

“This year I’m thinking about going with a Disney or Pixar theme.” Shireen waved her fork, her eyes bright. “Its so hard to tell what the weather will be like come Halloween. It could be either warm enough to dress like Moana or cold enough for Elsa.”

“You overthink it.” Lommy mused.  

Buzz. **Friday evening after a girl finishes work?**

**Sure. I don’t have a curfew.**

“What if you did like a food theme? I saw a guy dressed as McDonald’s French fries last year.” Hot Pie contributed.

Shireen hesitated. “Yeah, I’m not sure I want to do that…”

“What are you going to wear, Arya?”

Shireen answered for her. “Whatever I choose. It’s the one day of the year she lets me dress her.”

Buzz. **Just so. A girl must begin doing 100 push-ups and crunches daily.**

Arya’s smile died as she saw his first instructions. _Seriously?_

“Who are you texting?”

Arya glanced over at Shireen, who was studying her. “No one.”

Her roommate huffed. “You don’t smile like that for ‘no one’. Who is it?”

This was going to be one of those topics Shireen would not let go until she got the answer she wanted, Arya could feel it. Sighing, she decided to forgo giving herself the headache. “I’ll tell you later.”

Shireen gave her a look but then quickly got roped back into the continued conversation of costumes and where the best party was going to be. Arya was not sure how much she wanted to share with her friend. She jumped into the conversation, a bit more enthusiastically than normal, hoping the distraction would offer inspiration.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who is reading this story! Y'all make my day!

 “If there are no further questions, you all may return to your offices.” Professor Tyrion stated, concluding the meeting with his TAs. The undergraduate students were having their first big test next week so the professor wanted to go over his expectations for the role of the TAs and prepare them for the onslaught of students once the grades were posted. Jaqen found that he liked Professor Tyrion. The man was candor and sarcastic but an honest reflection of who he was without the hidden dark side found in so many others. Professor Tyrion did not try and hide who or what he was. _Quite different than his father. Is that personality or purposefully?_ Jaqen rose from his chair, along with the other TAs, biding the professor a farewell. Starting down the hallway, he hoped to escape but it turned out to be fool-hardy.

“Jaqen!”

He slowed his pace as Margaery Tyrell came up beside him.

“You’ve been ignoring my texts.”  She accused, her full lower lip pushed out, giving the impression of a pout. She was a beautiful woman, easily catching the eyes of those around with her confidence, flawless appearance and overt sexuality.

Showing the proper amount of remorse in his countenance, he caught her eye. “A man is most apologetic. He finds his time has been full.”

She flashed a dazzling smile, eyes holding his. “And that’s why you need to have fun! It won’t hurt you to go out for one night. You might find you even like it.”

He suspected she was not just referring to a night out drinking but what she hoped would come afterward. Her intentions were no hidden thing. He had been courteous to her, purposely neither accepting nor rejecting her offers and intentions, leaving them to dangle before her as enticement. This game of allurement and seduction seemed to intrigue her. He flippantly wondered if he gave in and bedded her, if she would leave him be afterward. Her conquest filled, she would move on to another. He suspected she was not a woman easily tied down to one man.

She stopped them, reaching out to place a hand on his upper arm, drawing herself closer than necessary. “Are you free Friday?” Tilting her face up just enough to look at him through her long lashes, her pink, painted lips opened slightly awaiting his response.

“A man is helping a student learn.” _Danke, Schönes Mädchen._

“And Saturday?” She breathed out, watching his lips.

He knew the calculated response before proceeding. Although he had no true desire to bed her, he may have need of her later and did not want to lose his opportunity. Giving the faintest hint of licking his bottom lip in response to her, his eyes traced her form from her eyes downward to her hips. “A man will consider it.”

“You won’t be disappointed.” Trailing her hand down his arm, she winked then turned and walked away, an extra sway in her hips for him.

He waited several moments before following, allowing her time to think he was watching her. His mind was elsewhere, his plans for the weekend full already. Saturday would find him off campus and at Professor Tywin Lannister’s home in St. Paul. Measures taken already assured that the professor needed an repairman to come out and fix his internet connection. When the call was placed, Jaqen made sure it was rerouted to the Order so arrangements could be made for his presence to attend to the problem. Finding a van and repairmen uniform had been easier than he suspected it would be. These Americans were too trusting and wasteful so it had not taken long to acquire the needed items. He planned on using a borrowed face, as the professor knew Jaqen’s true face. He suspected the dead man conducted most of his ‘extra-curricular’ activities in his home but for the hours the professor kept, that did not leave much time.

Jaqen’s thoughts turned to Friday night and the lovely girl. Truly he meant to stay away from her. She would only be a distraction to the mission. Looking into her cold, gray eyes and hearing her pain yet power when she conveyed her desire to not be helpless… He could not refuse her. The determination, the fierceness he witnessed in that moment called out to him, far louder than her quiet plea. It reminded him of his own journey, his own forgotten pain and helplessness. _She is nothing. She does not matter._ Yet he wanted to show her, to teach her how to be more. She was a fighter, but could she be a warrior? It amused him to think about and the warrior image pleased him. _Only to teach her to defend herself, after I will leave her be. The mission is absolute._ As he walked towards his office, he wondered exactly what he could teach her without giving himself away. He needed a believable story to explain his skills. Opening the door, he sat down in his chair. It squeaked whenever he moved. He was still thinking of the lovely, warrior girl when Brad spoke behind him.

“Did you fuck her yet?”

“Beg pardon?”

Brad huffed, adjusting his glasses. “You know, Margaery. Did you fuck her?”

“No.”

“Well, when you do, don’t let it be in here. I don’t need to see that shit.”

Jaqen gave a non-committal grunt, unsure what to think of Brad’s comment. When he had agreed to fulfill this contract, he had thought it would be simple. Reality was turning out to be completely different.

 

* * *

 

Friday night arrived and Arya found herself walking beside Jaqen under the streetlights. He waited for her outside when she finished her shift and Brienne locked the coffee shop up. Now they walked side by side towards his apartment, she assumed. He had not actually said where they were going. A relaxed silence filled the void of conversation. They walked by a couple of bars, some packed more than others. Some drunken frat boy cat-called her from a bar’s patio, to whom she made sure to show the best side of her middle finger. She could not be sure but she thought she saw a smirk cross Jaqen’s face but it was hard to tell in the dancing shadows. His apartment was only a few blocks away from the coffee shop so they made it there quickly. Again they entered in through the back door. _Does he not want people to know I am here? Is it an underage thing?_ Her questions remained unresolved in her mind.

“Does a girl wish to change?”

She declined, purposely wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt, unsure what to expect. He guided her silently down a long, back hallway. They passed a room with a large swimming pool and sauna before entering the gym. The room was large with multiple ellipticals, treadmills and weight machines. Against a back wall were free weights and exercise balls. Meanwhile the walls were all mirrors besides a window panel next to the door so those in the hallway could see how busy the gym was. No one else was in there, one benefit of it being past nine on a Friday night.

Arya tossed her backpack against a wall then came to stand next to Jaqen in the open middle of the room. He wore dark wash jeans, a black t-shirt and a determined look.

He watched Arya approach, mentally comparing her to his last apprentice. He only agreed to take her on as an apprentice because her master had to fulfill a contract that would take almost a year and the quiet girl was not yet ready to take her vows. Now, she had earned her place amongst the Faceless Men for three years. Although she was a formidable fighter, her greatest talent was in her skills with potions and poisons. She was Spanish descent with long, black hair, sharp mind and a quiet presence that hid her true, deadly capabilities.  Besides his English brother with the excessive tattoos, his Spanish sister was the only other person he felt a friendship with amongst those in the House of Black and White. 

He returned his thoughts to the one before him. “Did a girl do her exercises?”

She bit her lip, glancing away.

Raising an eyebrow, he made no comment, waiting for her explanation. If she truly wanted to learn then she must be dedicated and persistent. There were other duties that required his attention. Even if spending time with her intrigued him.

“I tried…well, failed miserably.” She moaned, tucking a few loose strands of brown hair behind her ear. “I don’t see how doing push ups and crunches are going to help me!”

Amused, he put up his hands, palms facing her. “Schlagen…Punch.”

_Seven hells!_ She pulled her hands up into fists and quickly punched one hand diagonal from her than the other, like boxers did in the movies.

“A kitten has more power than a girl.”

“Hey!” Anger flushed through her. “I’m pretty strong, thank you.”

“A man would choose a better word than pretty to describe a girl, but strong, a girl is not.”

_Did he just call me beautiful?_

He stepped closer and placed one hand on her stomach and one on her back. “Here is where a girl’s strength comes from. Focus it. Train it. It will not fail.” Releasing her, he took a step back, eyes intent. _Is she ready to learn?_ He hoped to draw out the beautiful fierceness he witnessed in her prior.

All Arya could think about momentarily was the swarm of butterflies that had erupted in her stomach under his touch. _Get it together!_ “I understand.”

“A man shall see. Now, you wish to escape an attacker, yes?”

She nodded, purpose and excitement filling her. A malicious smile held her lips as she imagined what she could do to Ramsay for revenge.

“A girl is small but there are…Schwachstellen…weaknesses she can use.” He stepped closer, motioning to his own body. “The knee, groin, throat, eyes, ears and solar-plexus. A kick, knee or fist to these points will cause harm to an attacker.”

“Ears? Am I pulling on them?”

“Nit. A girl will slap them.” He took one of her hands in his, cupping it, bringing it so the palm hovered over his ear. “The slap sends air to the ear drum, pressurizing it, disrupting one’s equilibrium. If hit hard enough, a girl may rupture an ear drum.”

 “That sounds painful.” She mused, imagining herself using this particular move.

It was a captivating sight to behold. The serene strength, the unmasked need for revenge and her enticing beauty coming together to absorb his words like parched ground soaking in spring rain. As he spoke he could see her mind comprehending and picturing herself using particular moves. “There is one thing most important when fighting.”

“What?”

He looked at her solemnly. “Do not give fear control. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Know your strengths. Know your surroundings. Fear blinds and binds. A girl needs to have her eyes open.”

“Fear cuts deeper than swords.”

“Just so. A girl understands, yes?”

She nodded. Over the next hour he led her through different hold and grips then showed her how to escape them. After each demonstration, he had them repeat the motion over and over again until she thought she could scream. It made sense, building muscle memory and Arya tried to focus on that and not her own impatience. On the other hand, she had never met anyone with such quiet patience and stillness. Never once did he complain or demean her, gently guiding and correcting her until she felt comfortable with the motions. Finally he called a stop to the training.

She could not believe an hour had flown by already. The realization of how sore she would most likely be tomorrow was unpleasant.

She sat on the ground, arms over her bent knees. “Where did you learn this stuff?”

“My father was…military.” Jaqen sat on the ground near her, casually spinning his fabricated story. “He thought knowledge of how to fight was an important skill to know.”

“Are your parents still in Germany?”

“No…they died.”

“Oh…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” She sighed, then looked off to the side, unsure why she felt compelled share her own pain. “My father died a few years ago…well he was murdered. They…they said it was a robbery gone wrong.”

Jaqen turned his full attention to her. This surprised him. His own story of his parents was a façade. Hers was real. “Das tut mir leid, Schönes Mädchen.” Sympathy touched him. Although his experience with his true parents was less than desirable, he lamented her loss for her. The impression the two of them were close resounded unspoken.

“I’m not sure if something like that ever truly heals. You just learn to bandage it up well and continue living to honor their memory.” At least that is what she told herself. As time passed it, the pain dulled little by little but she knew it would never be truly gone. Her father meant the world to her and his death had marked her soul. She had felt lost afterward, only opening up to Jon and Gendry for support and solace.

“Just so.”

“Can I ask you another question?”

He inclined his head, white forelock shifting to touch his cheek.  

“What does ‘Schönes Mädchen’ mean?”

He purred the words, smiling brazenly, attentive to her reaction. “Lovely girl.”

“You’re mocking me.” No one ever spoke of her that way, especially after they met her sister. Memories of Sansa calling her Arya Horseface while they were children came to find. She had come to terms with that. She worked hard to keep her grades up and focused her natural athletic abilities. Physical beauty was something the old gods had not blessed her with.

“A man does not.”

“Oh.” She averted her eyes as her cheeks reddened. Awkwardly, she fiddled with her t-shirt not used to compliments and what to do with them. _Especially from runway model guys. Shut up! Get it girl!_

He chucked, saddened and amused by her inability to see her own beauty. _Kraft und Schönheit._ She was a rare creature.

He offered to drive her home, which she initially refused but then thinking of the prior Friday, accepted. It was odd. They were practically holding hands the past hour, but it never felt awkward. There was an unspoken companionship or intimacy there that she could only contribute to their interactions last Friday. He had saved her. She had cried and almost puked on him. If he had not already rejected her, they were bound to be friends. He dropped her off in the front of her building then drove away after making sure she got in. Shireen’s door was closed so she was not sure if Tommen was over. Quickly changing, she dropped onto her bed and managed to pull the covers over her before drifting off into a peaceful, tired sleep.  

 

* * *

 

_You gotta lay off the caffeine. It was a late night! And now you’re busy like a live wire!_ Arya could  not help the persistent tapping of her foot nor the fidgetiness. It really had been a late night after her evening history class, trying to play catch-up on homework before it was due this morning. _Stupid Spanish and its online assignments._ To compensate for her lack of sleep, she decided to do what any smart college student does…drink way too much caffeine and wait for the inevitable crash later.

“Hey, Arya.” Podrick sat down next to her in the auditorium seats.

“Hey, Pod.”

“Did you see your test scores yet?”

“What? They’re up already?” They had their first test on Tuesday. Arya felt pretty confident but it was always easy to second guess everything afterward. She had her phone out and was logging onto her school account before Podrick could answer, frantic to see her results.

“Yeah, they posted them last night.”

_No wonder I missed it._ Quickly she found her results and winced. Her prior, excessive energy stilled as her mind absorbed her pitiful grade.  _I thought I had at least gotten a ‘B’._ She had barely passed.

“How did you do? Oh ouch.” He leaned over  to see her phone. “Sorry.”

She logged out and put her phone away. She had to get her grade up, not just for herself but for her scholarship.

“Maybe you need to meet with the TA, Jaqen.” Pod was saying sympathetically beside her. “He is really nice. Sometimes his accent is hard to understand. I’ve met with him almost every week now… I could go with you if that would help.”

She could not help the private smile that crossed her face. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. How do you connect with him?”

“Oh, always by email if you can’t go to his office hours.”

_I wonder what Pod would say if he knew I had Jaqen’s number in my phone?_ She dismissed the idea of sharing that info. The explanation of their relationship was not something she needed to discuss. _Relationship? Like a boyfriend? Shut up!_ Finally she responded casually. “I’ll email him, thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime.”

Class began and Arya tried to focus extra hard on what Professor Lannister was saying but  a piece of her mind kept trying to figure out how she was going to ask Jaqen for help. He was already taking time to teach her. Maybe he could help after the self-defense? Or she could be a normal student and go to his office hours. _Stop overthinking it! The worst he could do is say ‘no’. Yeah, those bronze eyes gazing at you and fine lips pursing to say ‘no’ almost looking like a kiss. Ah, shut up! Focus on school. He is a TA, focusing on him counts as academic, right?_ Sometimes she hated the distracting voice in her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I know that "fear cuts deeper than swords" is a Syrio Forel quote. I don't think I'm going to bring his character into this story but I love the quote and its significance for Arya so I chose for Jaqen to say it to her. I'm sorry if this offends anyone who wishes it to be true to the real story...but I'm still using it. :)   
> Next update will be on Saturday!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! Kudos and comments are loved!   
> Side note- I am not trained in self-defense so my references to it are from what few things I know and Google.   
> Other side note- there is a certain statement in the middle that I would like to give credit to Winterlyn_Dow. I promise I am not stealing this quote, I just love it.

Jaqen leaned against a store front near the coffee shop, one foot lifted up and pressed against the brick wall behind him. Under the streetlights, he looked like he was posing for some magazine instead of waiting for Arya. _I bet he does that on purpose._ She joined him and they began their silent trek to his apartment. He still came in and got coffee then would sit down to read or work on his laptop like before. Now he waited until they closed to leave then stood outside waiting for her. The offer that she could meet him at his apartment was on the tip of her tongue, but it stuck. An almost fight had ensued between herself and Jon plus Gendry ganging up on her that she could not walk home alone anymore. Finally she caved and told them that she walked with a friend after work to hang out for a while. It was an almost truth that partially satisfied the two…for now. Something in her gut twisted into knots at the idea of telling them about Jaqen. She was not ready to deal with the ramifications of that yet. _Who are they anyway? The social police force? I can spend my time with who I want._

The temperature had dropped since the sun went down. Fall was definitely here with hints of winter to come. She wondered if there would be an early snowfall this year. It was early October so snow could happen anytime now. A slight shiver caused her to wrap her arms around herself, the typical self-hug to stay warmer. _Self-note--bring a jacket, idiot. You cannot be in denial of the impending cold forever._ Before she realized it, warmth covered her in the form of Jaqen’s leather jacket attempting to cover her and her backpack.

The rebellious side of her wanted to toss the jacket back at him, that she did not need it. She was a Stark and the cold never bothered her. It was in her blood. _He is just trying to help. Remember, he doing you a favor. BE NICE!_ She mumbled a quick thanks before stopping to remove her backpack, donning the jacket properly. Picking it back up, they continued their silent walking. Involuntarily, she tucked her face further into the jacket, letting his smell envelope her. Cinnamon and leather. _Gods, why does he smell so good?_ A quick peek showed that he wore what she had termed his relaxed look- his classic black t-shirt and dark wash jeans. A neutral expression rested on his face but she could see his eyes continuously moving, scanning about them. His hands hung by his side as he matched her pace. He reminded her of a viper, poised ready to strike. In stillness and silence it waits for the predator or prey to come close then inevitably the hit occurs to the detriment of its intended victim.  On the exterior he appeared calm but she wondered what was hidden under the surface of his stillness.

They made it to the apartment and started walking down the back hallway to the gym. A question that had been bothering her finally found its voice, surprising her when it came out.

“Why aren’t you out tonight?”

He glanced at her, eyebrow raised.

“I mean, why are you here with me? Teaching me instead of out partying with friends or your girlfriend?”

He halted them, stopping in the middle of the hallway. His eyes searched hers for something, what she was not sure. Holding still, she stared back, allowing him to search for his answer. Unfortunately, she could not help biting her bottom lip. A habit she really should break.

“A man finds this important.” He said, reaching forth to tenderly rub his thumb along her injured cheek. It had healed well, only a faint crosshatch mark on her cheekbone showed that it used to look differently. He wondered if she received any other scars from the incident. The fleeting memory caused his jaw to clench and his pulse to increase. She was strong, she refused to let it make her helpless. He admired that. That boy though…he deserved a slow, painful death. Very slow. Very painful. A few, nefarious ideas sprouted up that would give him pleasure in delivering the gift of death.  His tone changed, dark and low, reflecting the thoughts swirling in his mind. An ominous glint lit his eyes. He suddenly gripped her chin, forcing her steel eyes to meet his. “If a girl asked for his death, a man would easily gift it to her.” It was not required of him. The Many-Faced God did not demand it. No one prayed or paid for it. Nevertheless, he would take the punishment to fulfill this for the lovely girl. It was also reckless and risky to offer this to her. _What will a girl think? Will she be frightened?_ This could destroy his student disguise if she spoke about it to anyone. Yet he hoped she would accept. She had shown him kindness in a rare moment of weakness and he wished to return the favor in the only way he knew how to. He was a dealer of death and would honor her with split blood.

She jerked slightly when he grabbed her chin, his bronze eyes burning ferociously. Then his offer sunk in and she sucked in her breath. Death. Ramsay’s death. If she asked for it. She believed him, that he would do it for her. The idea was tantalizing. _Is this what I want?_ He spoke of death as if it could be obtained easily. Something in her knew that for him it would be. Rationally, she should be frightened. Normal people do not offer to kill others as a gift. Yet she was not frightened. She was… thankful? Entranced? Appreciative? He was not diminishing her pain but offering revenge, a healing balm. _Is this what I want? I want him to suffer._

She placed her hand over his, a malicious smile appearing. “Thank you, truly, but not yet. I want…I want to…revenge will come, but not yet.” She wanted to deliver it herself. This was something she had to do.

He inclined his head, white forelock drifting across a part of his face. “Then a man will teach a girl until her revenge is fulfilled.” He released her chin. “Plus a man has no girlfriend to spend his time with, only Schönes Mädchen.” He winked and watched a blush warm her cheeks before turning to continue their walk towards the gym in companionable silence. Once inside Arya followed Jaqen to the middle of the room.

“Has a girl been doing her exercises?”

“Yes.”

“Sehr gut. Do them.”

She balked. “Now?” He inclined his head, purposely looking from her to the floor and back. “Seven hells! But don’t laugh!”

He slowly backed away, hands raised up in surrender but a smirk on his face defeated his propriety.  Laying down, she decided to start with the push-ups. She considered herself in shape but being forced to do one hundred crunches and push-ups was making her rethink her abilities. Jaqen stood off to the side watching. Trying not to think about that, she pushed herself until she completed forty-five push-ups then collapsed. Her arms felt like Jell-O and she hated how weak she was. Groaning, she rolled onto her back, positioning herself, she began counting out her crunches. Breathe, one, breathe, two. A weight held her feet steady and she opened her eyes to see Jaqen’s face practically above her knees. A jolt went through her but she tried not to show it, focusing on the burn in her core instead of the bronze eyes so close to her. Finally at fifty-five crunches she fell back onto the floor, arms spread outward, panting.

“A girl will improve.” He tapped one of her feet before rising and walking away. _I’m not sure if I should be insulted or encouraged by that?_ Slowly sitting up, resting her arms on her bent knees, she watched Jaqen grabbed two plastic water bottles from a mini fridge in a corner of the gym. _Fancy place._

A buzzing sound distracted her from watching his swagger. Near her lay an Android smartphone, screen lit up from a text. No one else was in the gym so she guessed it was Jaqen’s. Quickly grabbing it, she hit the power button to see who text him. 

“Hey, you just got a text from Margaery Tyrell.” She called over, looking up to see Jaqen walking back. He sat down beside her, taking the phone from her extended hand. He glanced at the text before turning the screen off and tossing his phone slightly away. “What did she want?” Arya asked after taking a sip. His expression had remained neutral but she thought she sensed a faint frustrated sigh after he read the text.

“Does it matter?” Margaery’s persistence irritated him although he did not allow himself to show it. This was the third drunk text she had sent that evening already. He needed to make a decision of how to best utilize her, to continue playing her game or give in. The game of seduction was something he played before with other women depending on the mission given but he despised it. He would rather a physical fight than manipulating using arousal and emotions.

Arya’s over-curiosity was bubbling up inside her. Something about the text seemed to make him uncomfortable. _It doesn’t matter, he can have friends. Are you jealous? Shut up! He said he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Yet…_ “Are you guys friends?”

“No.”

_Interesting. What would someone like her want?_ “Did she invite you to a party?”

Jaqen looked over at her, bottle raised halfway to his lips. He blinked then took a sip of the water.

“I’ll take that as a yes. She seems like the party-going type. Or at least bar-hopping kind.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “She likes you.”

“A man wonders why a girl would say that.” He took another sip of water, wondering what the lovely girl was trying to get at.

“In class, she is always sitting next to you…and trying to get your attention. Its not your fault. Most of the girls would drop their panties for you in a heartbeat, probably some of the guys too.” Water spewed from Jaqen’s mouth, showering the ground before them. A scandalized look held his features as he appraised her, as if she had grown a third head or announced she planned on taking his virginity. _Is he a virgin? Shut up! He looks too tasty._ Arya covered her mouth as she laughed at his expression. “Well it’s true. The girls that sit near me have some VERY detailed plans of what they would like to do to you, given the opportunity.”

“Verdammt.” He muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Rette mich aus dieser Dummheit.” He wondered if he should have used a borrowed face instead of his own for this mission. A couple giggles slipped out of his current tormentor. It was a delightful sound, vibrant and light-hearted, although it was at his expense. A stray thought caught him. _She said most girls…does she include herself in this?_ Turning to look at her, his eyes drew her in, a sudden passion radiating from them. “Most of the girls…” His face ever so slowly moved towards hers. His hand reached up and brushed the few loose strands behind her ear closest to him. “Does a lovely girl find a man attractive?” His hot breath tickled her cheek, causing a delicious shiver.

“Does…does it matter?” She bit her lip, not thinking straight. He was so close, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, his breath along her cheek and ear. _Seven hells!_

Before he could respond, the gym door opened and a middle-aged woman walked in, dressed to work out with headphones in. She squinted at the two on the floor then walked over to an elliptical machine but not before rolling her eyes. Arya’s cheeks felt red hot but a look at Jaqen only showed his typical neutral, unaffected expression. He leaned back, taking another sip of his water as if he had not moments ago caused her heart to beat irrationally and forget to breathe. Following suit, she took a swig of her water hoping it would cool her down and settle the butterflies in her stomach.

“So…what are you going to teach me tonight?”

“A girl is ready and not too tired?”

She rolled her eyes, teasing. “I was born ready.”

“Just so.” He smiled as he gracefully rose then held out a hand to her.

Self-consciously she took it, allowing him to pull her up. The memories of their very recent closeness tried to distract her. As she opened her mouth to ask him something, his calloused hands wrapped around her throat without warning. An unconscious panic took over as her eyes widened and her hands came up to tug at his vice-like grip on her. _What the hell?_ His hold on her was not tight enough to impede her breathing…much.

“How would a girl escape this hold?”

Her mind fumbled, trying to think while squashing the rising fear. He would not hurt her. She knew that. Yet an innate fear bubbled up clouding her mind. _Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Don’t give it control._ Closing her eyes, she took a breath, or at least as much of one as she could with his hands still encircling her throat. “I could kick or hit you. Try and cause you pain enough to let go.”

“But a man still has control over you. He can endure pain while a lovely girl only has minutes to live.”

Different strikes and places to kick came to mind but none seemed likely enough to force him to release his grip. Unless she went for his face, but his arms were longer than hers so reaching his face was improbable. It burned within her that she did not have a good answer. _This is why he is teaching you, idiot!_ His grip on her tightened a fraction. “I don’t know!” She bit out, the words tasting like acid in admitting defeat.

“Do not go for a man’s hands, as so.” His eyes noted hers, gripping his still. “It is weak. You must break his hold.” He walked her through the defensive move; showing her how to trap his fingers than pivot her body away to bring her elbow down and break the choke hold. “Once free, you must strike the attacker. A girl understands, yes?”

She nodded, mind detailing the maneuver for future use.

“Gut, weider.” They practiced the move several more times, her speed and confidence multiplying with each try. There was a glint in her eyes as she escaped his hold, one he witnessed while she fought him. It harkened to a deep darkness that resides in all, the ability to harm another purposefully. It was the drive of revenge. The fierce, raw power that can consume someone when that revenge is within their grasp. What he taught her was only a morsel of the buffet for retribution…and she devoured it. He marveled at the swift change in her, to bring out the inner darkness. It was a terrible and mesmerizing thing to behold. _Sie ist wunderschön._

“What about if I’m pushed against a wall?” Arya spoke up after escaping his hold again. Memories of being shoved against a brick wall caused her to bite her lip, forcing herself to stay in the present.

“A girl must fight back before she is trapped.” He guided them to a wall of mirrors. “When pushed, keep your arms straight in front of your body, fingers pointed up. If a girl’s arms are bent then she has lost already.” He showed her, keeping his arms stick straight, palms against the mirror. “Release a hand to make a fist, turning to strike attacker, then breaking away. A swift kick to the knee or a girl’s knee to his groin may buy her a few more moments to escape.” Standing behind her now, he guided her through the movements.

“Its almost like a dance.” She commented after several practices of escaping this particular hold. She leaned her back against the mirror, Jaqen stood before her, thumbs through his belt loops. “For every move you make, I can move with you or countermove forcing you to change your steps.”

“Soon a girl will be an admirable dancer.”

She snorted. “Don’t tell my mother that. She’s been trying to teach me to dance for years. She says my future husband won’t want a wife that stomps on his toes whenever we are on the dance floor.”

He chuckled. “A girl plans for her wedding already?”

“Not me. I doubt I’ll ever get married.” She rolled her eyes. “But my mother…it seems to be a life pursuit to make sure all her children are marriageable-material before trading us off to a spouse.”

The notion of an unknown man sweeping Arya off her feet and into his bed perturbed Jaqen. _How odd._ He had no real claim on her. He never would. Why did this offhand comment and image bother him so? He dashed it aside. “Is a girl ready to learn more?”

A wicked smile teased her lips. “Let’s dance.”

 

* * *

 

Arya stepped into her apartment, still debating if she should see Jaqen for help with her schoolwork. Over the weekend she had shown the math work and equations to Jon and Gendry, who turned out to be no help. Jon encouraged her to seek out a tutor or one of the TAs. He was at the University on a scholarship also, so he sympathized with her about the stress of keeping one’s GPA up. Gendry just teased her that math was not her strong suit and maybe she should switch majors. He received a well-placed punch from her.

“Shireen?” Arya called out, spying her friend’s backpack on the couch. _Weird, she is usually gone by now._ Arya had worked at the coffee shop for a few hours that morning. Her plan now was to shower, nap and go to Spanish class, conveniently missing Jaqen’s office hours. _Suck it up and just get it over with. You need the help! Shut up!_

“In here.”

Arya opened the door to Shireen’s room to see her laying curled under the covers with a pile of used tissues on the floor next to her. “Sick again?”

“Yeah.” Shireen’s normally light and cheerful voice sounded scratchy and rough. A coughing fit ensued after she responded.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m just going to sleep. I’ll text you.”

“Ok, let me know if you need more tea.”

Shireen smiled. “Let’s plan on that.”

“Alright, I’ll be back after three from class then.” Arya chuckled at her friend’s response. The girl certainly loved her tea, particularly green tea. When she was sick, which happened at least once a month if not twice, the store could not keep up with her demand for tea. Closing the door behind her, she realized her plans were ruined. She would feel bad if she lingered and kept Shireen awake. _Seven hells! Maybe this is the old gods forcing me to see Jaqen._ Checking the time, she quickly changed from her coffee stained clothes, _thank you random customer for spilling your drink all over me,_ grabbed some food and her backpack before heading out the door again. She managed to catch the Campus Connector bus on West Bank and take it until it got her fairly close to Elliot Hall. Normally she did not mind the long walk across the bridge from West Bank to East Bank. It was a chance to think , listen to music, or just watch her fellow students and guess what they were doing. Today, though, she needed to get to Jaqen’s office hours. It almost felt like everything was pointing her there. So there she went. _This had better be worth all this trouble and missing a nap._

All her expelled energy seemed pointless once she saw that three other people were waiting for him outside of his office. _Maybe they are here for the other TA?_ The pit in her stomach said otherwise. Podrick, of all people, was one of those waiting. He saw her approaching and waved, motioning for her to sit by him on the hard floor. There was not much else to do so she sat down, placing her backpack on her other side.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here.” Pod smiled, always friendly.

“Yeah, I took your advice. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I wanted to see the questions I missed on our test. They only let you do that if you meet with a TA.”

She glanced at her phone, there was only an hour left of his office hours. Well, she could not go back to the apartment. Might as well see how long this takes. Settling further down, she pulled out her phone to start playing on it but Pod starting talking to her. He seemed determined to carry a conversation. She wondered how many people easily dismissed him or refused to engage with him. Pity filled her and she allowed him to guide the conversation, topics ranging from comparing classes to movies to the best pizza places around campus. During their conversation the two others went into the office while Pod and her talked. She kept an eye on the time, watching the minutes tick by. Finally Pod’s turn came and he entered. During the waiting time, she never saw Jaqen, occasionally hearing his voice before the door was shut again. Alone, she played on her phone, wondering if it was worth sticking around or if she should just leave. _You could at least say hi. That’s what friends do._ The thought made her pause. _Are we friends?_ Their strange relationship could be labeled a ‘friendship’ but that did not feel sufficient. Yet they only spoke for an hour or two regularly, even though he was training her. _Does it matter?_ For some unexplainable reason at that moment, it did.

Arya groaned at herself, standing up. Grabbing her backpack she decided to forgo the meeting and head over to Spanish. Maybe she could work up the gumption to talk with him about class on Friday. Before she could step away, the office door opened.

“Hey Arya, sorry we took so long. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Pod said, stepping out of the office.

“Yeah, see you then.”

He smiled then started walking away, whistling some tune that bounced off the white walls of the rat maze.

Jaqen leaned against the doorframe, a reserved smile on his face. “A girl is friends with him?”

“Well acquaintances really, we sit next to each other in class.”

 He tilted his head, studying her for a moment. Why did the notion of the boy sitting by her bother him so? _Could it be jealousy?_ _You are Faceless. You are No One. No One does not feel._  He strangled the strange thought before a seed was planted in his mind. Taking a step back, he gave her space to enter the office.

_So much for sneaking away._ Complacently she followed and sat on the ugly couch as he closed the door behind them. Something about his countenance screamed exhaustion. It was subtle, his bronze eyes were less bright, his lips tight. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I…”

He waved his hand dismissively, dropping into his chair. “A girl does not bother. What can a man do for her?”

She fiddled with the sleeve of her long-sleeve shirt, not meeting his eyes. “Actually I came for help with classwork but it can wait, your office hours are practically over.” She bit her lip unsure why she was so nervous about this.

“Ah,” he rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin, “a man apologies, it is not fair to you.”

“‘Who says life is fair? Where is that written?’”

His bronze eyes suddenly gleamed, staring intently at her. “An interesting observation.”

She shrugged, caught off-guard by his sudden intensity. “Actually it’s a quote from Princess Bride.”

Leaning back in the chair, he continued to watch her, the intensity replaced with a playful smile on his lips. “A Prince’s Bride? A man is unfamiliar with this.”

“No, no. Princess Bride.” She emphasized. “You know, the story with Wesley, Buttercup…the Cliffs of Insanity…Inigo Montoya…?”

He continued to watch, recognition never crossing his face.

“What? How do you not know Princess Bride? It’s a classic!” She sputtered. It had been one of her father’s favorite books and movies. Some of her earliest memories were curled up next to him watching the movie, listening and feeling his laughter at his favorite lines. She pointed at him. “Ok, Herr H’ghar, you and me, we are going to watch it. Then when you go back to Germany you can have at least one positive American experience to share with all your friends.”

He laughed, a lovely deep sound that reverberated in her core. “A man looks forwards to this experience to be educated in American classics.”

“Well good, I look forward to educating you.” _Why did I say that? That’s the most awkward statement ever!_ Some of the darkness had lifted from his eyes. She had the urge to touch his cheek, to try and make him laugh, to drive the rest of the darkness away and let his eyes shine. _Because that’s what friends do, right?_ Before she could give into the impulse, she stood up. “I have class starting soon. I should get going.”

“A man will make up this time to you, he apologies.” He stood up, towering over her.

If she raised her hand, she could easily place it on his chest, feel his heartbeat. She bit her lip. _It’s not like that. He is just trying to help._ “What about Friday? Either before or after training? Or will you be tired of me by then? I’ve heard I can be a lot to handle for being such a small size.” She teased. Something about him intrigued her. He was reserved, a wall greater than the Great Wall of China surrounded him, but when she caught glimpses past it…she wanted to see more.

“A man will not tire of you by then.” It seemed the more time he spent with her, the more he coveted their time together. There was a familiarity with her, an ease in their time spent that attracted him. Friendships were a rarity in his life, especially such an effortless one. It did not hinder that she was pleasing to look upon.

Her heart decided to begin beating irrationally. His eyes were smoldering. _Does he do that on purpose? Seven hells, stop biting your lip! Oh no! I probably reek of coffee and sugary syrup. Why didn’t I shower before coming?_ “Ok, see you then, Jaqen.”

“Auf Weidersehen, Arya.”

She opened the door then looked over her shoulder. “Did you eat yet?”

He tilted his head slightly as if unsure how to answer.

“I thought so.” Whipping her backpack around, she grabbed her apple and baggie of chocolate-covered almonds, tossing them to him. “Don’t worry, the chocolate is dark, although I’m not as sure it’s the eighty-five percent cocoa you prefer.” She winked then left, overly-pleased with the widened eyes and small smirk that was behind her. Grabbing the second apple out of her bag, she took a bite walking towards the elevator. If she had turned around, she would have seen him leaning against the doorframe watching her retreating form with something of admiration on his face.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!  
> So a bit of insight-I've been repeatedly listening to Imagine Dragons while writing this story. I don't know why but their music seems to inspire these characters and my writing. With that, I've decided that the some 'Natural' by Imagine Dragons is Jaqen's theme song for me. I listen to it and immediately can get into his POV. So if anyone is interested I highly recommend checking out that song. Now though I feel like I need a theme song for Arya and I can't make a decision. So... does anyone have any suggestions they would like to share? It doesn't to be a Imagine Dragons song. If there is one I really like I'll share it with the next chapter which most likely will be Saturday. Yeah!  
> Anyway, you guys are the best! Comments and kudos make me want to write more and better! 
> 
> Also the lyrics at the beginning of this chapter are from the song 'I Bet My LIfe' by Imagine Dragons. I thought they were appropriate...

_“I’ve been around the world/ and never in my wildest dreams/ would I be coming home to you./ I’ve told a million lies, but/ now I tell a single truth/ there’s you in everything I do”._

Arya adjusted her earbuds before continuing to tap her pencil on the table. Shireen glanced up at her momentarily from across the table but then went back to reading her textbook unperturbed. They sat in the, mostly, silence of the campus library on West Bank. It was closer to their apartment and Shireen preferred this one compared to Walter Library on East Bank because it was not as busy. The small stack of books next to Arya’s notebook proved this was a useful library, but tended to focus on topics that would not currently help with her paper. Eventually she would have to go to Walter Library for further research and sources for her paper for her history class. In the meantime, she did not mind sitting with Shireen.

It was Thursday so she already had her Research Methods class and was waiting to leave for Spanish but she still had time to spare. Thus spending time in the library, pretending to be a good student. Before her was a book on the burial practices of the Ancient Egyptians. Her eyes scanned the pages, gleaning what she needed and wrote onto the notebook beside her without committing to read everything word for word. She was just getting to a better description of a ‘ka’ when someone grabbed her shoulders from behind her. An unelicited shriek spewed forth along with her heart practically leaping into her throat. She braced herself against the table. In her mind she felt a brick wall under her hands, the light of the library was replaced with streetlights. For a moment she remembered the feeling of blood slipping down the side of her head, stroking her cheek. Panic. Fear. Helplessness. Forcing herself to the present, she took a couple deep breaths, hands in fists. She was not in the dark alley. She was in the library. _Fear cuts deeper than swords._ Her slightly shaking hands were a reminder that although she chose to fight against the memories and not let them influence her, her body’s autonomic responses were beyond her control.

Her attacker casually pulled out the chair next to her at the table, settling himself down. She tore the earbuds out of her ears before punching her attacker’s arm.

“Seven hells, Gendry! Don’t do that to me!”  Her breathing felt slightly ragged but she tried to mask it.

The stupid grin remained on his face as he rubbed his, hopefully, bruised arm. “You’re just mad I scared you. Hey Shireen.”

Shireen just smiled, looking between Arya and Gendry before turning back to her textbook. She got along well enough with Jon and Gendry, it was never awkward. Although she probably would not consider them friends.

“Hey, you ok?” Gendry was looking at her, a crease between his eyebrows.

Arya punched him again in the arm, gritting her teeth. _Damn him! Damn my inability to fully control these reactions! I’m not helpless! Damn Ramsay for doing this to me!_ She could feel her body almost trembling with the adrenaline coursing through her veins as it subsided. Biting her lip, she turned away from him, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. _Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords…_ So far she had been able to hide or disguise the effects of the trauma. She hated the idea of anyone worrying about her. She could handle it. She would not let this control her. She was a fighter. She did not back down from a challenge. She did not need anyone to help her. Occasionally she dreamt of that night in the alley, but it was the helplessness that haunted her. The inability to defend herself, to protect herself. Waking up in a cold sweat, she only calmed by reminding herself that Jaqen was training her. She would never be helpless again. She would fight. It was the daily unexpected reactions that most caught her off guard. When she worked at Caribou, she felt more on edge. Every time the door chimed announcing someone entering or leaving she tensed slightly before looking over to make sure it was not Ramsay. When someone approached her without her realizing, it set her heart hammering and her breathing uneven, adrenaline kicking in. The clothes she wore during that night she had disposed of, the slouchy long-sleeve was torn up anyway but she could not even wear the legging without the memories attached. It was weakness and she hated it. Hated that these reactions lingered. She hoped they would fade eventually. _Perhaps after I get revenge, then I’ll be at peace._ That thought brought her joy. If it took her years, she would get her revenge somehow. Ramsay would regret the day that he touched her.

“Arya?” Gendry put a hand on her shoulder, voice soft, pleading. “Oh gods, I didn’t mean…It was a joke.”

She removed her hands, breathing finally under control. “Its fine.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine!” She hissed through her teeth. _Seven hells, just drop it!_

A pained look lingered on Gendry’s face as he analyzed her. After a brief moment he squeezed her shoulder before sitting up straight next to her. “What are you reading?” Gendry grabbed the book she had been looking at. He noticed the title then quickly eyed the stack of books next to her. “Please tell me this is for your ‘dead’ class and not just light reading. I would hate to wake up in the middle of the night to find you trying to mummify me.”

“Its not a ‘dead’ class.” Arya scoffed at his teasing, understanding he was trying to lighten the mood. “It’s a ‘Death and Afterlife’ class for history.”

“Uh huh, still creepy. Shireen, what do you think?”

“It was worse when she was reading from the Book of the Dead and talking about ancient spells two weeks ago.” Shireen commented, not looking up.

“Case closed.” Gendry reached over and grabbed her baggie of goldfish crackers, helping himself to a handful.

“You two are ridiculous. And you, stop eating my food!”

Buzz.

Arya looked down at her phone to see a new text. Surprised, she opened it to see it was from Jaqen.

**A man was promised to watch a movie, is a lovely girl free tonight to fulfill her promise?**

She bit her lip. _I really need to work on this paper?_

**What time?**

**A man is free after 6.**

Well that gave her a few hours after Spanish.

**Ok, your place?**

**If a girl does not object.**

**That’s fine. I’ll meet you there. I’m pretty sure I can find my way there by now.**

**A man awaits with great anticipation.**

She smiled, suddenly looking forward to the evening more than she was ten minutes ago. _Maybe I can convince him to order pizza._ She thought about texting him back but then shrugged, they could figure it out later.

“Who was that?” Gendry watched her, a little too interested in her opinion.

“No one, just a friend.” Quickly she tucked her phone away before he could make a grab for it.

“Why are you blushing?”

 _Seven hells!_ A smart remark was on the tip of her tongue but when she looked at him, it died. Although he held a sense of bravado, behind his eyes she sensed concern and hurt. _He is just looking out for me, especially after what happened._  It irked her that Jon and Gendry hounded her more but she knew they meant well and tried not to let it ruffle her feathers too much. She was not about to tell them about her self-defense training…yet.

“He…he was just asking for help with homework. He said something about me being pretty and smart.”

His eyes definitely narrowed. “Who is he?”

Her mind scrambled. “Podrick…we have Research Methods together. Nice guy, awkward. I don’t think he has many friends.”

Somewhat satisfied, he leaned back with a grunt. Glancing up, he waved a hand but kept a slightly sullen expression on his face.

Arya looked up to see Jon and Sandor walking towards them. Sandor was another senior friend of theirs. He looked like a professional body-builder and was almost seven feet tall. Intimidating did not even begin to describe him. His most prominent feature was the burn scar on the left side of his head, his ear was mutilated and part of the cheek was scarred horrendously. Once you got past the hard surface, he had a sarcastic streak a mile wide and was humorous and generous to his friends. He had been over to the Starks house on many occasions with Jon and Gendry for holiday events and long weekends. His own family was a bit of a shit-show. Arya suspected he held a crush on her sister, Sansa, but never voiced the question.

“Hey Jon. Hey Sandor.” She tried to sound chipper but Gendry’s mood was leaking onto her. _What’s his problem?_

“Hey guys. Gendry, you ready to go?” Jon asked, leaning on the table next to them. Sandor stood beside him, arms crossed, the typical scowl on his face. He usually was not angry but it certainly kept people from bothering him.

“Yeah.” Gendry stood up, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

Jon glanced at Arya’s stack of books. “Are those for your ‘dead’ class?”

“Ugh!” Arya thought about throwing the books at Jon and a smiling Gendry for good measure.

 

* * *

 

 “Hallo, Schönes Mädchen.”

“Herr H’ghar.”

Jaqen smiled as he stepped to the side to let Arya into his apartment. Tossing her backpack next to the couch, she turned to see him watching her warily after he closed the door.

“Everything ok?” Arya sensed something was wrong. He was tense. It was subtle but there. His jaw was clenched, eyes slightly narrowed as if internally debating.

He watched her, amazed how she had picked up his inner turmoil already. He was Faceless. Complete manipulation over his emotions and their expression was a requirement. _Can she read me somehow? Am I losing my control?_ “A man was concerned for a girl’s safety, ” he finally said. It was partially true. While waiting for her, he paced, images of damning events plaguing his mind. It was ludicrous. _You are No One. You need no one._ Yet he worried for her wellbeing, her safety. It was also absurd how the thought of an evening relaxing with her filled him with a sense of elation. How his English would laugh at him, teasing that his Facelessness was slipping and would soon want more than a one night stand with her… He silenced the thought before it fully took form.

She rolled her eyes. “Its still early. I’m fine. Besides, I haven’t seen him since…” There was no need to finish her statement.

Immediately his face dropped to a relaxed, neutral countenance after she spoke. “Of course. Shall we start?” He moved forward but she stepped to block his path.

Reaching a hand out, she placed it on his chest, looking up at him. “We can watch this another time. Really, I can go. Something is bothering you.” She wondered what disturbed him so. He was trying to deny it, to keep it hidden from her. In her mind, she planned this to be a fun, relaxing evening for the both of them. Hopefully she would learn more about him meanwhile sharing with him something that was significant to her and her memories.

They held that position for several long moments, waiting. How could he tell her that his struggle came from his unnerving desire to seek time alone with her? She was the sun in his cloudy day. Her beautiful smile, her warm laugh, her easily offered friendship- things he found he missed when no longer around her. It was madness. Finally his eyes softened and he placed a hand over hers on his chest. “It can wait.”

“Ok, well kick me out whenever you need too. I promise I won’t be offended.” She teased, trying to lighten his mood. His calloused hand over hers caused her stomach to twist into knots. _I wonder what it feels like to hold it?_

“Just so.” He released her hand and she pulled it back to her side. “Movie?”

She smiled before kneeling down and digging the DVD out of her backpack. “I was wondering what you thought about us ordering pizza?” She handed it to him. “Mesa Pizza isn’t too far away and they deliver. I’ll split the bill with you. Unless you’re not hungry, then we don’t have too.”

“A man would enjoy that. Order and he will pay. A girl brought the movie.”

She wanted to protest but from past experiences with her brothers, once they go the notion to pay for something, there was no backing down from their decision. “Fine. What kind of pizza do you want?”

He seemed to ponder a moment before smiling seductively at her. “Whatever a girl is having but without onions, in case a man is tempted to kiss her.”

Furiously, she tried to beat back the blush forming on her cheeks but she was failing. _How does he do this to me so easily? Stop blushing like some senseless maiden!_ Instead of letting him win, she decided to fight back. “That would be assuming I let you. I’ll have you know, I’m learning self-defense and I’m getting pretty good.” She placed her hands on her hips and staring defiantly at him, hoping she looked menacing.

He threw back his head laughing. “Just so, a man will be most cautious with his affections.”

She smiled as she dropped onto the couch, before grabbing her phone and calling in the order. As she did, Jaqen came around and sat down on the opposite side of the couch, setting up the movie remotely. When both parties were ready, he hit play and she pulled out a plaid, fleece blanket from her backpack she brought with her. He raised an eyebrow but made no comment as she snuggled into the couch, tucking her blanket around her. The couch was leather and deep, as if it was trying to suck her in. She settled in, content and comfortable.

She noticed again how spartan his apartment was, nothing to show from his life or interests. It reminded her again of a hotel room, but worse. _Does he have friends back home? Look at him, idiot! He’s so freakishly handsome and nice, he has got to. And probably several girls trying to get into his pants._ Why does he not have anything from home on display? She remembered the vintage books in his bedroom but she could not think of anything else that seemed personal. _Maybe he was only able to bring so much with him because of his flight here?_ That would make sense. _Maybe he has pictures on his phone?_ She wondered if there was something she could do to help.

Soon the movie sucked her in and she no longer paid attention to the lack of décor that made her sad. Occasionally she glanced over to see his reaction but quickly her attention became absorbed into the movie. She had seen this movie so many times, she mouthed along to most of the dialogue, a sense of nostalgia gripped her soul. However much she loved the movie, the fond memories and laughs it brought with it; there was always a sense of sadness for she would never be able to watch it again with her father.

The pizza arrived about the same time that the heroes were climbing the Cliffs of Insanity. Jaqen paused the movie, paying and retrieving the pizza. She ordered their Barbeque chicken bacon, hoping he liked it. If he did not, she would gladly eat the whole thing. He set the pizza on the coffee table, declining her offer to help. Grabbing a glass of water for each of them and plates, he settled back down.

“Let me know what you think.” She shyly commented, helping herself to a slice.

He grunted an acknowledgment before grabbing a piece for himself. They continued the movie, nibbling away at the shared pizza. Although the movie had its comedic, action, romantic and serious moments, Jaqen found his attention distracted. He lounged against the corner of the couch so he faced both the TV and the lovely girl near him. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched her mouth along to the words, giggling at the humorous parts and biting her bottom lip in the tense moments. The urge to reach over and released her lip from its vice seized him but he held still, only his eyes allowed to move to watch her. Her warm steel eyes shone illuminating the innate delight and fight for life abound within her. Her pale skin contrasted with the plaid blanket wrapped around her. “ _I haven’t seen him since…”_ Her statement was said with such conviction. He knew she said it to reassure him, to not have him worry. _Does a girl know? What would she say if she knew the truth?_ Twice now, Jaqen turned away her attempted raper from entering her place of work on a Friday night. The first had been the week after the event.

_Sitting at the window, he looked up to see Ramsay approaching with the same two friends as when he first laid eyes on the boy. In an instant, his feet carried him outside. He stepped just to the side of the windowfront, preventing those inside from seeing him. He stood, arms crossed, not hiding the fury he felt. Ramsay caught his eye and slowed his pace but prodded forward. Der Junge ist ein Narr…ein Backpfeifengesicht, he thought to himself._

_“A boy needs to leave.” Jaqen softly spoke, stepping in front of them. His posture was casual, thumbs through his belt loops, head cocked to the side slightly. He preferred to not have to physically force the three to change their minds but bloodshed have never stopped him before. It would only be complicated if someone called the police and he found himself forced to explain his actions._

_“Whatever asshole, get out of our way or we’ll make you.” Ramsay demanded, a hint of wariness in his voice but obviously wanting to appear tough in front of his companions._

_Jaqen noted the bruises on the boy’s face and hairline. His eyes hardened as shrugged. “Perhaps a foolish, ignorant boy desires another beating. There is a great lesson learned through pain. A man is willing to help a reckless boy learn if he wishes so.”_

_Ramsay spat at Jaqen’s feet, eyes glaring. His friends behind him darkly chuckled, rolling their shoulders to prepare for the beating they believed they would give._

_Dramatically, Jaqen tipped his head to the left then right, cracking his neck, a smirk on his face. “You.” He nodded to the one with a ballcap on. “A man will dislocate your right arm then break it.” “You.” Turning his gaze to the other companion with the college shirt on and black beard, “A man will crack three ribs before making you unconscious.” His tone become disquietly calm, hinting at the violence easily unleased as he lastly looked to the ignorant boy. “A man will make sure you do not forget his lesson. First he will fracture your jaw followed by breaking four, no, six ribs, potentially puncturing a lung. Once a boy is writhing on the ground in pain, a man will stand over him and blacken both eyes but not before breaking both wrists and ankles so a boy will understand true helplessness and fear.” He let the threat hang in the air, a promise of pain to come. He eyed each one silently, watching how the fight would play out in his mind. It would take mere minutes, hardly worth working up a sweat._

_The boys’ eyes looked back and forth between each other and the man they had thought they would teach their own lesson to only to have the roles reversed._

_“Let’s get out of here.” The one with the ballcap finally said, breaking the strained silence. Ramsay continued to stare, his beady eyes wrathfully burning holes into Jaqen’s head. Jaqen raised an eyebrow, a wordless invitation. Truly he had no desire to fight these green boys. That did not mean he would not enjoy providing them a lesson through pain. His only concern was containing his bloodlust which demanded for the gift of death to Ramsay. It would be so easy. Too easy. Valar Morghulis. Few could withstand the skill of a Faceless Man. He had promised the lovely girl her revenge though…_

_“The slut’s not worth it.” Ramsay seethed. Turning on his heel, he walked away followed by his friends who continuously threw glances over their shoulders as if unsure if Jaqen would come barreling after them and fulfill his promise of pain spoken._

The second time Jaqen saw them approaching, he faked taking a call to step outside. He held the phone to his ear, pretending to focus on the nonexistent voice on the other end. It only took a minute for them to recognize him then turn around and start back the way they had come. He stayed outside an extra few minutes to confirm they were not waiting for him to disappear before continuing their ill-advised trek to the coffee shop. Jaqen had no intention of informing the lovely girl of his interactions. She would most likely be upset with him for intervening and claim she could handle herself. _Ein Mädchen hat mehr Mut als Sinn._ Yet it was that independence, that very lovely fierceness that drew him to her.  Life had not spared her from pain, yet she still fought. He felt unable to resist her initial innocent charm and the veiled, profound violence witnessed when she fought. _Was hast du mit einem Mann getan?_

 

“So what did you think?” She tipped her head to the side so she could see him as the end credits began to roll. “I know it’s kinda cheesy but it was made in the ‘eighties’ all things considered.” She hoped he liked it, that he had not thought the past two hours were a waste of time. _Oh gods, what if he never wants to hang out with me again if he hates it!_ She squirmed under her blanket from the thought, it brought a sense of dread and nervousness. Truthfully, she looked forward to their time together and she would hate to lose it over a differences of movie tastes.

He rubbed his chin, thinking. “It was not a man’s typical choice…”

Sliding further down the couch, she reached her foot over to push him, blanket still covering her. It was a childish move. Her nerves were on edge, wanting to hear the truth that he hated it but not wanting to hear his disinterest in her presence again.

He snatched her foot just before she could get to him. “…but it was entertaining…a man enjoyed a girl’s company more.”

“Awww…you aren’t so bad yourself. How about next time you pick out the movie?”

He chuckled. “A man’s time seems to be filling up.” Not that he minded if she was apart of it.

“You could say no, plus you were the one to ask if I was free tonight.”

“Just so.”

They sat in peaceful companionship, his hand still gripping her foot, thumb rubbing the bottom sporadically.  

“Ugh. I should probably go but I think your couch has eaten me. I don’t know if I can get up.” She teased, pushing herself further into the couch as if to emphasize. His couch was actually more comfortable than Jon and Gendry’s. Releasing her foot, he stood over her, holding out his hands. _Gods, I hope I don’t have food in my teeth._ Self-consciously, she took his outstretched hands in hers and allowed him slowly help her up. His hands were warm and felt way too good holding hers. Once he let go, she gripped her long-sleeves in her palms, hoping to keep the warmth just a few moments longer. _You’re acting like a love-sick child, stop it!_

“A man will drive you…”

“It’s ok,” she interrupted, grabbing her backpack and stuffing the blanket in it. “Its still early. I’ll be fine. I need to stop at the corner store anyway.”

He hesitated, wanting to protest but finally just shook his head. There was no power he had to control her. His concern for her safety could not determine her own actions. _She is nothing. The mission is absolute._ He was only a ship passing through in the night of her life, his part would have no lasting impression. “A girl has more courage than sense.”

 _What is that supposed to mean?_ She decided to down-play the comment, not wanting to antagonize him. _I really do need his help with classwork._ “Common sense is overrated. Besides, you can drive me home tomorrow.”

He held the door open for her. His voice soft, imploring as he spoke. “A girl will text a man when she arrives home, yes?”  

“A girl will text. How about I send you a picture to prove it? And if I feel in any way threatened or afraid, I will call.” She placed her hand on his arm, trying to reassure him. _I’ll be fine, really. He is more paranoid than Gendry as of late._

“A man will wait for a picture of a lovely girl.”

“Good, I’m still not sure about the lovely part. Thanks for the pizza though. See you tomorrow, Jaqen.” Walking by, she made her way down the hallway to the elevator. She hoped he would not follow her. Honestly, she needed air and time to think otherwise she would have loved to ride in his fancy, foreign car, surrounded by the smell of leather and cinnamon. The cold air felt good on her face once she made it outside. Jaqen H’ghar. He was the strangest person she had ever met. The way he held his emotions and expressions in check was astounding and disturbing. He gave off a relaxed feeling but tonight there was turmoil hidden behind it, like the sea with an approaching hurricane. There was more to him than being a TA, that was blatantly obvious after he offered to kill for her. He was not some scholar trying to meet a quota of requirements to further his education. She could not put a finger on it but it was there. Something that screamed danger, caution, excitement, revelry, all wrapped up in one person. Jaqen H’ghar. As promised, she stopped at the corner store. Maybe he was right, she did have more courage than sense but she was never one to turn away from a challenge. And keeping her emotions and heart from getting tangled up whenever she saw his face was becoming a challenge. _Seven hells!_

 

* * *

 

The roar of the grizzly bear startled Arya out of her thoughts. She looked over the heads of children to see the giant beast lumbering away on the other side of the glass. It had been a few years since she had gone to the Minnesota Zoo and found herself agreeing to Shireen’s request to accompany her. Somehow Shireen had convinced her to skip her English Literature class to keep her company. Her boyfriend, Tommen, needed to take pictures for an art project of his. Tommen became quite focused when fulfilling his photography passions, almost unresponsive to the world around him. So Shireen did not want to wander alone, trailing her aloof boyfriend from animal to animal. Thus Arya found herself on a Friday morning watching the grizzly bears wander around their enclosure.

“Can you believe its almost Halloween?! I’m so excited!” Shireen gushed, grabbing Arya’s arm. They stood off to the side of the enclosure, keeping an eye on Tommen and staying out of the path of the families there. “How would you feel about dyeing your hair?”

Arya glared.

“How about a wig?”

“No.”

Shireen huffed, brushing her fine, blonde hair behind her shoulder. “Fine. You can be a brunette Wendy. Oh, here we go.” They scrambled after Tommen as he started towards the next exhibit. “So are you finally going to tell me who you were texting the other day when Hot Pie and Lommy were over? Were you texting him yesterday in the library? Is he why you’ve been getting back to the apartment late on Fridays? Were you with him last night?”

Arya almost tripped over her own feet. “What?” Her mind scrambled for an answer. She should have expected this at some point, Shireen was more observant than she led on. Truthfully she had been hoping to avoid this conversation, her own feelings about her relationship with Jaqen made everything questionable.  

Pulling her to the side of the path, Shireen gave her a pointed look. “If you are talking with someone or have a boyfriend, that’s fine. I just thought you felt like you could talk to me about stuff like that. You’re one of my best friends. I just want you to be happy.”

 “Seven hells, it’s not like that…” Arya bit her lip.

“Uh huh. I saw those blushes and smiles while you were texting this mystery guy. Plus if you go to anyone’s house late its only Jon and Gendry’s and they don’t drive a fancy coupe car, so…”

Arya just stared at her friend, who had eyebrows raised, daring to be challenged. She wanted to deny it but… _but it would be good for one person to know, right? For accountability?_ She hoped she would not regret this. Sighing, she glared at her inquisitive friend. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Eeeek!” Shireen squealed, a huge smile on her pretty face. Before she could say anything they saw Tommen walking away, camera in hand. They quickly caught up with him as he walked over the bridge to the tiger enclosure. They picked a spot, leaning against the concrete half-wall, looking down at the male tiger walking along the vegetation next to the small pond.

“So…”

Arya whispered. “His name is Jaqen.”

“Ooo…foreign.”

“He is a TA for one of my classes…He…He is the one that saved me from Ramsay.”

“Oh.” Shireen gave her a quick side hug. “I like him already.”

Arya gave a short laugh. “We are just friends.” _Except you dreamt of kissing him last night…_

“You sure? You’re biting your lip and I think I see a blush starting.”

“Shut up!” Arya scrubbed at her face, hoping to erase the traitorous expression. “I don’t think he sees me like that. But its ok. I like hanging out with him. He is different. Quiet. He makes me laugh. He is teaching me some self-defense on Fridays after work.”

“Sounds sexy.”

“Oh gods, Shireen, stop!”

“Do you have a picture?”

“No.”

“Can I meet him?”

Arya bit her lip. “Eventually. We’re just friends. He’s helping me. That’s it. I don’t think he has a lot of friends here. He’s from Germany.”

“If you say so.” Shireen brushed her hair out of her face. “When is the last time you had a boyfriend? High school?”

Arya grimaced. “Edric.”

“Ugh. He was a jerk.”

“I’m not looking for a relationship. I need to focus on school.”

“Fine.” Shireen sighed then looked her in the eye. “I want to meet him if you two keep hanging out.”

“Deal. Don’t tell Jon or Gendry. I’m not ready to tell them about him. They will get all weird and overprotective.”

“You’ll break Gendry’s heart if this German guy becomes more than a friend.”

“Ha! Yeah right. He’s like a big brother.”

Shireen rolled her eyes. “I’m going to ask Tommen how much longer he wants to stay. I have class in an hour and half that I can’t afford to skip today.” She walked further down to gently lay a hand on Tommen’s shoulder.

Arya turned her attention to the tiger, pacing now along the far back wall. _What does she mean about Gendry? It’s not like that. We care about each other but not romantically. He’s a brother._ He had been supportive of her when she broke up with Edric. Jon held him back at one point so he would not go after Edric. Maybe she should tell them about Jaqen. They would be able to tell if he was a good guy. Maybe Jaqen would like some other friends. Her mind could not quite wrap around the idea of Jon and Gendry hanging out with him. Jaqen was sophisticated and cultured while her brothers were…college guys- video games, pizza and beer. She loved them. A part of her enjoyed Jaqen as her secret…secret friendship. Plus he looked good enough to eat and she was not sure how her brothers would handle their little sister around that.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the slightly delayed post. I struggled with writing the end of this chapter and wanted my beta to read it one more time before I posted for you guys. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Comments and kudos are love! 
> 
> Next chapter will be posted on Saturday.

 

Friday evening came before Arya realized it and she was saying goodbye to Brienne. Arya walked over to Jaqen waiting for her. He wore a button-down long sleeve with a suit jacket over it. _Why is he so dressed up today? I mean, damn he looks good but what’s going on?_

Before she could ask, he nodded towards the plastic bag she carried. “What has a girl got?” He stepped up beside her, flawlessly matching her pace as she kept walking.

“Well it seems the only time you remember to eat is when I remind you.” She teased, bumping his arm with her shoulder. “So I’m making dinner tonight to make sure you eat but also to say thank you. If I’ve learned anything from my brothers, its feeding them is a way to show gratitude.”

He laughed, eyes twinkling under the streetlight.

“If its alright with you, I was thinking I would make dinner and we can start on the math while eating. Then if it’s not too late, you’re not sick of me yet or my head hasn’t exploded, we can do a short self-defense lesson.”

“A girl has thought this out.”

“We were VERY slow tonight. I had lots of time to think.”

“Mmmm…”

They walked by the few bars, not paying attention to the noise. A few guys were standing outside smoking. One of the guys looked over and made direct eye contact with her. She suppressed a shudder, suddenly feeling slimy and in need of a hot shower.

“Hey sexy, why don’t you come over here?” He winked, slightly obscured by his glasses. He brought the cigarette back to his mouth as he took a few steps towards them.

Without missing a beat, Jaqen landed a solid punch to the man’s gut as he approached then casually swung his arm around Arya’s shoulders and pulled her against him as they kept walking. It was so fluid, so effortless, the whole scene caught Arya off guard. She peeked back to see the man on all fours hacking and grunting.

“That…was…amazing.” She stated in awe as she wrapped her arm around his waist. “You’ve got to teach me how to do that.”

He squeezed her shoulder against him but kept his arm around her protectively. They walked with an arm wrapped around each other until they reached his apartment.  Once inside, Jaqen asked if she needed help which she jokingly rebuffed, saying she could cook. He sought her permission before excusing himself to shower quick.

Once she heard the shower going, she darted over and snatched her backpack. Butterflies took off in her stomach but she suppressed them. She placed the items on the counter separating the kitchen and living room, against the wall. After accomplishing her secretive task, she began working on dinner. Truthfully, she had text Hot Pie yesterday about easy dinners to make. Of course he was exuberant about sharing his love of food and was trying to convince her to make meatloaf with scalloped potatoes and roasted vegetables. Immediately she shot that down. After several hours of texting back and forth they decided a simple pasta dish would suffice. She was forced to add sausage and additional veggies along with extra spices besides the marinara or Hot Pie threatened to find her and make it for her. However convenient it would be for Hot Pie to just make it, all she could imagine was his pudgy face, mouth open in a perfect ‘o’ if he saw who she was making dinner for. He would probably try to sneak her condoms. _Not that anything like that was ever going to happen. Ever._ She turned on music from her phone as she navigated the small kitchen. Quickly finding the pots and lids she needed, she began boiling water for the pasta and sautéing the veggies and sausage. Hot Pie would be so proud. A new favorite song came on and she lost herself in the lyrics, momentarily forgetting she was not alone.

 

Jaqen stood in the bathroom, towel-drying his hair one last time before donning his t-shirt. His mind tried to focus on what he had learned that day, in the presence of Professor Tywin Lannister. Brad and he had a meeting to update the man on their research progress. Although he knew it was unnecessary, Jaqen had dressed up to further his story of an excited PhD student, desiring to be underneath the professor’s guidance and be in his favor. 

The wire tap at the dead man’s house proved incredibly useful. There was a large file of documents to decode on Jaqen’s laptop but not tonight. Tonight was for the lovely girl. It bothered him how he had begun to look forward to their time together more. He had no need for friends. He had no need for relationships. They were liabilities. He was No One. Yet hearing that she was making him dinner twisted something inside him. It had been months since he had eaten with someone in casual friendship, not trying to glean something from the other person or decide how to best avoid an attack. Music drifted through the door disturbing his thoughts. It was a female voice with an upbeat rhythm. Curious, he silently opened the door and stepped out. Arya was singing along, shaking her hips as she stirred one of the pots on the stove. The light-hearted innocence captivated him. Life and joy radiated from her smiling face. He also could not help seeing her womanly curves as she danced to the music. She was not overly curvy, but there was enough there to draw a man’s eye and trace her form. As the song ended she glanced around then noticed him leaning against the doorframe, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. A delightful blush warmed her cheeks.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to watch a girl dance.”

She bit her lip, blush deepening. _Seven hells!_ _Damn you, Meghan Trainor and your catching songs!_ Shireen was currently obsessed with the artist and sure enough got Arya hooked on the song ‘No Excuses’. Turning back to stir the pot with the sauce mixture, she willed her blush to go away.

Jaqen was not quite ready to give up seeing the color on her cheeks. Silent steps brought him directly behind her, almost touching. Her head reached his mid-chest. Bending down slightly, he put his mouth close to her ear. “A girl is most welcome to dance in a man’s kitchen whenever she wants.” He whispered huskily, watching her stiffen and goosebumps raise on her skin where his breath touched.

Arya’s mind scrambled, trying to figure out what to do or say. He was so close, too close. _Not close enough. Shut up!_   His breath on her ear and neck was alluring and intoxicating. She had to play it off otherwise if she let herself think about it too much she was going to get turned on. “That, Herr H’ghar, was not dancing. I only dance at weddings or when tipsy. Neither happen very often.” She kept her face forward, trying desperately not to think about his lips so close to her ear.

He chuckled, moving his head to continue whispering in her other ear. “A man hopes to see that someday.” With the faintest of touches, he ran his nose along the length of her ear’s edge before retreating. He walked around to take a seat on the bar stool, facing into the kitchen and watching her, before he did anything more. _So much for a casual friendship._ With that he noticed the newest additions on his counter, close to the wall. “Was ist Diese?” Out of the corner of his eye he could see Arya turn around to watch, biting her lip. He grabbed one of the four, cheap wooden picture frames, turning to see it better.

“You don’t have any pictures…and I wondered if you got homesick. I love having pictures up, so I got some for you.” She tried to hide the nervousness in her voice. His apartment made her sad with the lack of anything personal, constantly reminding her of a hotel room. “I wasn’t sure where you were from specifically so the pictures are kind of touristy. Sorry. That first one is the Black Forest, which is beautiful. I would love to visit there someday. The second is the Heidelberg Old City, I thought it was architecturally interesting. I didn’t think you’d want a picture of a castle. The other is the Zug…Zugspit? The tallest mountain.”

“Zugspitze.” He set the photo down and reached for the fourth, a very different natural beauty in it. “And this?”

She tried not to blush. “Its important to have pictures of friends, something to look at and smile. That’s me and my dog, Nymeria. She’s a Newfoundland.” She remembered when Jon had taken the picture about two years ago. It was a hot summer day so they decided to go to the lake. She wore a black tank top over her bikini, kneeling on the ground, arms thrown around her large dog, faces pressed together. It was her favorite picture of the two of them. Normally she had it taped to the wall next to her bed but spur of the moment decided to give it to him. She could always print another.

He ran this thumb tenderly over the picture of the lovely girl and her huge, black dog…it looked like a wolf. “Danke. Truly.” He looked at her, unsure of how to convey his appreciation. Her gift was not just décor for his apartment. He understood her meaning-you are not alone. _You are No One. You need no one. The mission is absolute._ The Faceless side of him fought back. _She is nothing. Lügner!_  He worried what that meant for both of their sakes.

“You’re welcome.” She glanced down, embarrassed, then happened to notice her t-shirt. “Seven hells!” Grabbing a paper towel she got it wet and tried to wipe the pasta sauce spots off her t-shirt. _Of course I’m wearing white. What was I thinking?_ It was pretty obvious her shirt was stained. She looked at Jaqen, an exasperated smile on her face. “Don’t laugh.”

“A man would never consider it.” He smirked.

“Can I borrow a shirt?” She rolled her eyes, turning the stove off. “The food is done.”

Jaqen got up to retrieve her a new top, smiling slyly at her.

“Hey, if you have that red sweater I’ll wear it again. Its really soft.” She called after him. Grabbing two bowls from a cabinet, she started to serve them.

He returned carrying the red sweater, a half smile on his face as he handed it to her.

“Thanks.” She took it and stepped into the bathroom to change. It still smelled of cinnamon. There was no way he was getting this back.

Quietly they started eating. Jaqen could not help peeking at the lovely girl beside him. Her claim on his clothing made him laugh, apparently it did not take long for her to make herself at home. His gaze also took note of her wearing his sweater causing his mind to wander to other things… His Faceless side helped pull his thoughts back to the present. _Just friends. Nothing more._ As they ate, he received an unexpected text. Pulling it out of his pocket, he opened it and regretted his action. Margaery had text him again. This time she had attached a picture that he expected was supposed to be sexy but to him just made her appear desperate and undesirable.

“Told you she likes you.” Arya leaned over to peek at his phone before he deleted the photo and turned his screen off. She wondered how often he received unwanted attention like this because he was so attractive. “Here, let me.” She held her hand out for his phone. He hesitated then shrugged and gave it to her. For a brief moment she was impressed he gave it to her without question but turned her attention to the phone. Pulling up the message, she quick typed a response and hit send before Jaqen could read it. She handed the phone back. “You probably won’t have to worry about her now…at least for a bit.”

He raised an eyebrow. Before he would turn the phone on, a text came. He checked the conversation.

**Bitch, stop texting my bf!**

The text he just received from Margaery was, **WTF?** He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Let me guess, she isn’t too happy?” An impish smile on Arya’s face. She could only imagine Margaery’s horrified, angry expression.

He watched her, torn between admiration and frustration. The past weeks of teasing and taunting Margaery went out the window but it was not completely unsalvageable. On the other hand, it might keep the temptress at bay until he truly needed her. In which he could bed her and be done. It probably was not bad for his appearances to have a romantic interest at some point while here. The thought of it being the lovely girl beside him…his cold heart fluttered momentarily. He did not want to hurt her ultimately. A relationship was out of the question. A bit of flirting though…

Leaning over to unnecessarily reach around her for a napkin, he paused. His arm was around her, not quite touching. His mouth close to her ear. “A man believes she does not like competition.” He breathed in her scent, a piece of him wishing to taste her skin.

The butterflies swarmed her stomach again but she refused to lose it this time. She did not back down from a challenge. She would not. Even if she wanted to lean into him and drown in his scent and presence. She tilted her head just enough so her lips were close to his. She could almost feel his breath on her lips. A fleeting moment made her wonder what they tasted like. “There is no competition, I would win.” She seductively growled or tried to. Looking up from his lips, his eyes seemed to burn brighter, the bronze captivating. Her next breath stuck in her chest, trapped in his gaze. They stayed that way for several moments. Their eyes searching into one another’s souls, an almost kiss just separating them. Their breaths intermingled. It was intoxicating.

Jaqen blinked a couple times rapidly then leaned back. A seductive smirk resided deliciously on his lips. “Just so. A girl should have no fear.” He wanted nothing more than to kiss her full lips, to taste her tongue and steal her air. _Sie ist wunderschön._ His fingers yearned to touch her pale skin, to trace her neck and collarbone, peeking out from his sweater. Margaery may play the temptress but she had no power over him. Arya, though, her power over him seemed to only strengthen.

“Oh, I’m not afraid.” She teased. “I’d kiss her ass.”

He leaned his head back, roaring with laughter. Arya quickly joined in. The tension died as their laughter ebbed. He was not sure the last time he laughed that hard. It felt unfamiliar yet pleasing. They finished their dinner in companionable silence.

“Thank you for dinner.” He commented as he snagged her empty bowl and brought it to the sink with his. It had been quite delicious, a pleasant break from his simple, solo meals. _You are No One. You need no one._ “A man will clean later. Time for a girl’s help with math.”

She groaned, placing her face in her hands, elbows on the counter. “I had forgotten about it. Just kill me now, save us both the torture.” The evening was going so great, she did not want the stupid math to ruin it.

A finger tilted her face up, gray eyes meeting bronze eyes once again. “A man will not let you fail.”

“Promise?”

“Just so.”

“You gotta say ‘promise’ back, that’s how it works.”

He chuckled. “Promise. Get your schoolwork.”

She groaned but obeyed. “By the way, I forgot to mention it earlier but I can’t meet next week. It’s Halloween. My roommate is forcing me to go out with her.”

“Will you be safe?”

She stopped and really looked at him. There was true concern in his eyes. She was touched…and slightly annoyed. “Its just a friend of a friend’s place. Not a frat party. It’ll be fine. The worst part is she is on a Peter Pan kick and decided she wants me to go as Wendy while her and her boyfriend are Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. She even found wings for herself.” She sat back on the bar stool. “I guess it could be worse. She talked about me being Princess Jasmine from Aladdin; but I told her I would not walk around in just a bra and sweatpants in front of a bunch of guys I don’t know.”

His eyes narrowed but he ruled his face, keeping his emotions locked away. “Will a man get to see this outfit?”

“I can send you a picture. Shireen will have me on lockdown once my Spanish class ends.”

“A man will wait. What will he do with himself without his apprentice to train and feed him?” He teased, returning to his seat next to her.

“I’m sure you can find something to do. Maybe finish your book?”

“Just so. Now, Schönes Mädchen, what questions?”

They spent the next hour going over the equations and problems until Arya thought her head would burst. Slowly her frazzled brain began to comprehend and understanding sunk in. His patience was heartening as he let her slowly work out the problems, offering guidance when necessary. Occasionally he would rub her back or neck encouragingly when she started to become frustrated. It helped sooth and center her. Finally he called a end to the night and offered to drive her home. It was late and her brain hurt too much to think about inputting any more information if they proceeded to train. Overall, she was pleased with the night’s events and felt slightly hopeful for the next test. When lying in bed later, she could not help but think of the feeling of his breath on her skin and his lips so close to hers. She snuggled deeper into the covers, pulling his sweater over her nose to breath him in. She wondered if she would dream of him…again.

 

* * *

 

Halloween. A day for costumes, candy and mischief. As a child, Arya loved the holiday. She would always dress up as a legendary warrior or an inspirational woman. Now she wanted to vomit. Halloween was an excuse for college girls to dress slutty and guys and girls to get drunk and make regrets.

After her afternoon class, Shireen practically tied her down to a chair in their apartment, refusing to let her escape. Luckily, for Arya, her costume was simple. Pretending to be Wendy Darling, she wore a light blue, three-quarter sleeve dress with a royal blue sash around her waist. Her hair was in a bun with a royal blue bow underneath. She wore black slipper shoes. The only big downfall about her costume, beside it being a dress, was the front was low, trying to expose cleavage that Arya did not possess.

Tommen was a better sport than her, as he wore green tights and a green tunic. Although he was a dirty blonde, his round, innocent face made him look like he could truly be Peter Pan. Shireen’s Tinkerbell costume was more elaborate, going to the extent of body glitter and a small pair of moving wings upon her back. Really she looked beautiful and overly enthusiastic. They ate and took pictures before heading towards the party. It was at a house a couple blocks away. Arya sent a picture to Jaqen, as promised. Jon worked tonight, claiming to get good tips. Gendry tried to convince her to join him for a party he was going to. Arya wished she could have but knew how important this was to Shireen and could not abandon her. He joked that he could come rescue her if she sent an SOS text. She definitely kept that in mind.

When they arrived, it appeared the party had been going on for a while already. The house was an old, three-story city house, overly decorated and reeking of booze and pizza, packed with people. Arya wandered amongst the crowd a bit, holding her plastic cup of a fruity, spiked something. She recognized a few people and made small talk but was ready to go after an hour. Shireen kept an eye on her, trying to make sure she was included and having “fun” but soon she was dragged into some game inside and Arya was left to herself. She pulled out her phone, considering texting Gendry. It would probably be more fun hanging out with him wherever he was. _Maybe Sandor is there too? I bet I could kick his ass again in darts._ Just before she hit send, she closed her phone. She promised Shireen to stay for a while, she would give it another hour and then text Gendry. Two hours total was fair.

Eventually she found Hot Pie and Lommy and stayed close to them. Hot Pie was dressed as a beer keg, which was actually hilarious and quite a few people wanted pictures with him. Lommy was just wearing a camo jacket and jeans, a sour look on his face. They watched a couple rounds of beer pong on the back deck. A girl dressed as a zombie tried to convince Arya to play but she fervently passed. She loved competition and fighting to win…until it came to alcohol. The memory of a few mistakes during freshman year reinforced her decision to not play. After watching a guy pretending to be Jack Sparrow… _Captain, Captain Jack Sparrow_ …fall off the deck drunk already, Hot Pie dragged her into the group of people dancing in the grass. The alcohol, repeatedly forced upon her by Hot Pie, loosened her negative feelings of being here and she found herself laughing and dancing with those around her. After a couple songs, she realized she really needed to drink water to replace the three cups of fruity concoction she had already drank but she felt relaxed…light…good. _Maybe this party isn’t so bad after all._ The only bother was the wandering hands from the guys dancing around her but she quickly smack them away or jabbed the guys in the ribs, emphasizing her disinterest in their attention. 

As the song died down and another came on, she scanned around trying to locate Shireen. It had been awhile since she saw her friend and wondered where she was. Looking around though, she saw someone else that caused her blood and mind to freeze momentarily. He was dressed like he were from the movie Grease. His hair was slicked back, white shirt, black leather jacket but she would recognize those beady eyes anywhere. Ramsay.

“I’m going to get a drink.” She yelled into Hot Pie’s ear before breaking away from the group. Maneuvering through the crowd and keeping away from wandering hands, she ducked inside to find Shireen. The memories and emotions of that night weeks ago came rushing at her. She had not seen him since and was unprepared for how debilitating the emotions were. Conflicting thoughts warred within her. She wanted to run and hide, hoping he would not notice her. An escape from the memories of his lips on hers and his hand slamming her head brutally against the wall. She felt weak. She felt helpless. Then she thought of Jaqen. His persistent patience in teaching so she would not be helpless anymore. His warm, guiding hands showing her how to break out of a attacker’s hold. She had felt powerful. She had felt strong. She promised herself she would not run and hide from Ramsay. She would get her vengeance. She would not back down from this challenge.

Weaving through the house, she caught sight of Shireen and Tommen, oblivious to the world as they drunkenly kissed, her sitting in his lap. Arya did not stop. She sped by people on the stairs, taking two at a time until she reached the third floor. There was a side alcove that she darted to, a large open window next to it. Leaning her forehead against the window frame, the cool night air felt good on her face and cleared her head. She could easily step out of the window and onto the roof if she chose. Perhaps another time she would have. Now she needed to breath and think. _You wanted your revenge, now take it!_ In her daydreams, she had played out many scenarios of how she could hurt, humiliate and even kill Ramsay but most had been highly unrealistic. Now that she had the opportunity, she did not know what she wanted to do. _Punch him? Stab him with a kitchen knife?_ She really did not want to go to prison for assault or attempted murder. Pulling out her phone, she almost called Gendry to come get her. When he heard why, he would probably confront Ramsay. _Maybe Jaqen? He would come._ His question of her safety floated in her mind. Even if he was asleep, she bet he could come. _Would he think me weak though? He’s been training me to defend myself._

“Fear cuts deeper than swords.” She whispered, closing her eyes. She saw Jaqen standing in front of her, bronze eyes intense as she repeated his words. _I will not be afraid. Ramsay should fear me._ Unmoving, the cool air glided across her cheeks and caused a few strands of hair to sway about her face. Fear slowly seeped out of her body. Determination replaced it. _Fear cuts deeper than swords._

Her gray eyes reflected the moonlight before she blinked and took a step back. She started towards the stair railings, glancing around to see if anyone saw her. A harsh laugh forced her to stop from turning the corner and going down the stairs. _Know your surroundings._ Jaqen’s words prompted her. She backed up to the alcove, giving herself an exit if necessary.

A head with slicked back hair popped up over the railing then continued to materialize as the person walked up the stairs. Once fully at the top, his beady eyes surveyed the floor until landing on her.

“There you are!” Ramsay called over, starting towards her, smiling.

“Back off.” She moved one foot back, planting herself solidly, balling her hands into fists. _Dammit, why am I in a dress?_

He put his hands up defensively yet still came closer. “Hey, hey. Can we talk?”

“No.”

“I just want to apologize for…the last time we saw each other. I was drunk.”

“That’s a shit excuse.”

He stood three feet away, blocking her. “Come on…”

“Don’t touch me!” She growled. Every ounce of her felt on fire. She was not afraid of him. No longer was she helpless. “Get out of my way.”

“Baby girl…” He grabbed her wrist, stepping closer to her. Quickly, she slipped her wrist out of his hold then swung her hand around and slapped his ear as hard as she could.

He cried out and took a step back. She hoped she ruptured his eardrum. The breeze from the window rustled her dress. _Could I make it out of the window before he grabs me?_ There was no way he was going to let her by him now. She sent a quick, silent prayer to the old gods.

After a long second Ramsay charged her. His prior, apologetic look replaced with rage. His eyes narrowed, lips curled back. A animalistic look overtook him as he rushed her. His eyes demanding blood, to hear her cries of pain and for his need to dominate.

When in times of acute stress, the body’s sympathetic nervous system kick starts what is called the ‘fight or flight response’ which includes dosing the body with huge amounts of adrenaline and noradrenaline. One’s heartbeat and breathing increase to push greater amounts of oxygen through the blood to prime the body for the physicality of fighting or fleeing. Pupils dilate which allows for more light to enter the eye and greater vison. Blood reduces in the surface areas of one’s body to flow into the muscles, brain, arms and legs to prepare the body for the chosen reaction. Her mind and body screamed for her to fight, to stand her ground. Her body obeyed. Arya felt her mind sharpen, able to take in seemingly random observations. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, both from the adrenaline and the cool air drifting through the window kissing her neck. Laughter and cheers echoed from downstairs, a reminder of the party-goers oblivious to the tension just above their heads. The floorboards squeaked under their feet.  There was no conscious decision, no fore-planning or thought.  Arya just reacted. Maybe the old gods took pity on her. Maybe Jaqen’s training had sunk in deeper than she thought. She would never know. Time felt as if it sped up and she just moved. The darkness in her cried out in revelry. Now was time for her revenge. She was not helpless. She would make him pay. Finally she would have her peace restored. Mostly though, she wanted to cause him pain. 

He came towards her, his arms outstretched, ready to pin her again. It was so familiar to their last interaction. This time though, she was ready. She rapidly sidestepped from his grasp. She had to get him off balance, the newly trained part of her brain shouted. Grabbing one of his arms with both of her hands, she pulled as hard as she could. His forward motion propelled him onward. Her pull increased his momentum. Turning quickly, she steadied her feet, fists up prepared to fight. He would probably turn around and take a swing at her. Her mind stilled as her muscles remembered how to block and defend herself. She was ready. Her revenge and his pain were within her grasp. Yet next thing she saw, he tumbled through the large, open window. Landing on the roof, he cried out and rolled off, his momentum still carrying him inadvertently. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth in shock. The last thing she heard was a few seconds of silence followed by a hard thud. Blood-curling screams ensued. A call of pain. A siren’s song of revenge. The faintest hint of a smile touched Arya’s lips.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy this chapter...things are heating up between our two friends/lovers(?). Comments and kudos are the best! I'm planning on the next chapter being posted next Saturday unless otherwise unable to contain my enthusiasm.

The conversation heard that morning on the bus continually repeated itself in Jaqen’s mind like a broken record that he was unable escape. Typically he listened effortlessly to all conversations around him, to glean any useful information. It was an early training practice for apprentices; the apprentices wandered the streets, to learn what they could before returning to the House of Black and White to share their findings with their master. Now it had become second nature for him to listen. Most of what he heard was useless but on the rare occasion something of interest slipped out for his mind to snatch up. Two girls and a guy were discussing the events of the weekend when a particular name was spoken, drawing his attention. They sat on the seats behind him, ignoring those sharing the space on the crowded bus. Although Jaqen appeared to be looking out the window, his attention fixated on the conversation.

_“Yeah, Ramsay is in the hospital now. Apparently in an coma.” The guy was saying, unknowingly summoning Jaqen’s interest._

_“What happened?” One of the girls cried hoarsely, drawing a few glares from those around her._

_“They said he fell out of a third-story window at a party.” The guy explained, keeping his voice low. “My friend was there, she said the weird thing was Ramsay just arrived. He wasn’t even buzzed yet. She wanted to hook up with one of his friends again so she stayed around them. She said it seemed Ramsay was looking for someone in particular… a girl him mentioned before. He was asking around if she was there… He must have saw her and went upstairs. It wasn’t much later that he went out the window and off the roof.”_

_“Shit, that’s crazy.” The other girl commented. “Well I heard a drunk guy jumped off the bridge…”_

Jaqen’s blood turned to ice. Outwardly his appearance was unchanged from a passive, almost bored, look. A buzzing tension filled his muscles, an unconscious action preparing him to fight. Snatches of conversation around him filtered through his mind but his turbulent thoughts drifted to his lovely girl. _Was she hurt? Had she been there?_ His stop came next. Getting off, he was in turmoil. The idea of texting her crossed his mind but he immediately rejected it. He needed to see her… to reassure himself that she was unharmed. _You are No One. The mission is absolute._ The thought of her harmed in any way, even the faintest scratch, caused his blood to boil. No one would be safe from his wrath if she was hurt. He rubbed his hand over his chin and mouth, distracting himself from his dark thoughts. _She is no one._ Yet somehow she had become important to him. _When did this change happen?_ Was it when he held her bloodied and crying in his arms? Was it from her small kind acts to comfort him? The revelation both terrified and enthralled him. No good could come out of this. He is Faceless…and she is the embodiment of life. Fierce. Strong. Lovely. He sent a silent plea to the Many-Faced god.

 

The morning dragged by unendingly. Luckily he only had two people come to his office hours. Perhaps Him of Many Faces heard his servant’s prayer. His body went through the motions of typing up the latest information on the research project then helping those students seeking his advice. His mind wrestled with itself, an unabating desire to see lovely Arya and the continued rebuking of that need. _You are Faceless._ After the second student departed, he gathered his bag and left, claiming unwell to a disinterested Brad. The walls of his small office were closing in on him. The image of Arya hurt preoccupied his mind. He had to see her. His feet carried him to Folwell Hall. His pace was relaxed, his thumbs casually hooked through his belt loops. Yet there was nothing relaxed about how his eyes continuously and skillfully scanned those around him for her face. There was nothing casual about his aggressive heart beating or forcing his hands to not form fists. Quickly he ascended the stone steps, entering the foreign language building. Finding a spot near the steps leading to the upper floors, he waited. She mentioned she had Spanish after his office hours, he desperately hoped she would come.

After fifteen agonizing minutes of waiting, of searching for her face, of chastising himself for needing to see her, his eyes witnessed her walking through the crowd, oblivious. Like a ship adrift in the ocean, tossed around by the waves, then finally seeing a illuminate, guiding light from a far off lighthouse, a direction to head towards; he released a breath he had not realized he was holding. The tension in his body subsided as he scanned her quickly. Her headphones were in, a thoughtful expression on her face. She wore a long sweater over leggings, her brown hair in a bun, a few loose strands framing her face. Before she walked by him, he snaked an arm out and pulled her to him. He was aware of the crowd, students making their way to their next class or talking with friends. The notion of prying eyes caused him to change his course.   

Arya gasped as she was swiftly pulled into the niche under the stairs. Immediately she recognized him, once her eyes focused. “Jaqen! Seven hells!” She shoved his chest hard, infuriated with him for scaring her and herself for being so unaware. Her thoughts had been so focused on trying to think up an adequate excuse for not completing her assignment…and she had not expected the need to defend herself on her way to Spanish.  “What are you doing here?” An extra hint of anger lit her voice when she noticed her shove had not caused him to budge at all.

“A man came to see if a girl was harmed.” His voice was low, not wanting to draw the attention of others.

“Harmed? I’m fine. Why would I be hurt?”

Relaxed, he ran a hand over his mouth and chin. “He heard of an incident on Halloween. A certain boy fell out of a window.”

“Oh, that.” She sheepishly looked down. There had been so many times she had started to text him over the weekend but backed out at the end. Finally she decided she would tell him in person. She had not thought he would have heard about it so soon…  

“A girl should explain that look.”

“He barely touched me…”

As the words left her mouth, he roughly grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall, further into the recesses. “Did he hurt you?” He growled out, anger dripping off every word.

Arya was astounded and frightened by the murderous look in Jaqen’s face. She held his unyielding gaze, as if that was the only thing containing his fury. His hands pinned her shoulders painfully against the wall behind her. _What is going on?_ A tendril of fear stole into her mind.  His bronze eyes seared her, holding her hostage in their wake. The friendly, kind Jaqen gone in this moment. This was a Jaqen she had not met. This Jaqen was terrifying and bloodthirsty. Hesitantly she reached up and placed her hands on his chest, eyes never leaving his. “No, he tried. But I fought him off, like you taught me...”

They stared into each other’s eyes for several moments, minutes, eternity. Time ceased to be. Slowly he moved his hands from her shoulders to cup her face. His forehead came to rest against hers. His eyes closed, allowing their touch to drain his anger and fear away. _You are Faceless. You do not fear. You do not hate. You do not love. You are No One!_ Yet fear and anger had sunk their claws down deep into him.

“Was hast Du Mit mir Gemacht?” He murmured, feeling her breath, her hands on his chest. “What happened?”

“I saw him…and went inside to think. I didn’t know what I wanted to do.” The words came tumbling out. It felt good to tell someone…to tell him. The smell of leather and cinnamon floated around her. His warm breath tickled her face. She kept her eyes closed, remembering. “I was going to call you. But he found me. I’m not sure how. I thought of you and everything you taught me. I thought I should be scared but I wasn’t. He tried to grab me but I slapped his ear. Then he tried again but I pulled him, like you showed me, to use his momentum against him. I forgot there was an open window behind me.” She took a deep breath, trying to slow her words. “He…he went through. It all happened so fast. I heard him land and then the screams. Someone called an ambulance. I ran downstairs and saw them load him up. I guess they put him in an induced coma, at least that’s what I heard.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“I…I don’t know. I don’t think so.”  She bit her lip, unsure.

He leaned his head back to look into her soft gray eyes. She was safe, she had defended herself. A part of him hated she had been forced to. “A man would have come.”

“I know.” She noticed that the hallway was quiet, guessing classes had started. She made no inclination to move though.

He sighed, forlorn. “A man should have gifted a lovely girl this boy’s death weeks ago. The boy should never have been able to touch you again.”

“It was my choice. I got my revenge.” She tried to impress upon him. _Shouldn’t he be pleased I can take care of myself? Isn’t this what he’s been teaching me to do?_ She wanted to cause Ramsay pain and she had. All weekend she had thought about it. The pride and joy it gave her. Her nightmares vanished. It felt as if her mind was restored, as if it understood she was no longer helpless. She noticed his eyes burned still but they had greatly lessened. Spontaneously, she moved her hands from his chest to his back, pulling him into a hug. Was it to comfort him? Was it to thank him? She was not sure but her body moved on its own accord, sensing a disturbance and trying to remedy it. He quickly followed her actions, moving his hands from her face to encircle her.

He spoke softly, chin resting on the top of her head. “A girl is an excellent student.”

She smiled, her face tucked against his chest. “I have a great teacher.”

He chuckled, holding her against him. He could feel her body humming with a new energy. A sense of freedom, of peace and strength surrounded her and he wondered if it was because of her revenge. The darkness finally appeased within her. The beautiful thing it was. Her grip lessened slightly around him, a silent signal of their embrace ending and he lamented the notion of it. She fit perfectly in his arms, as if two puzzle pieces coming to unite. Her hair smelled of lavender, tantalizing him. His mission to check on her welfare was complete but somehow seeing her, touching her, feeling her, he did not want to let her go. He promised himself once she had her revenge he would leave her alone. _You are No One. The mission is absolute. You need no one._ The mantra filled his mind. The lovely girl filled his arms and senses. He wondered which side would win the war.

“I should probably go to class unless you need me. I can skip today if that would help.”

He released her, hating it, hating himself. “No, a girl will be late. A man deeply apologies.”

Taking a half step back, she realized she missed his embrace already. His arms around her were secure, strong. His heartbeat under her ear called out. The frightening darkness diminished but lurked on the edges of his being, easily grasped a hold of to inflict whatever horrors deemed necessary. She found it odd that it did scare her away from him. If anything she wanted to understand him more. _Who is he?_ “Its ok. My teacher is pretty lenient.” Glancing around a moment she looked back at him. “Would you still want to hang out on Friday? I know we agreed until the revenge thing happened but, yeah, maybe we could watch a movie again?”

“As you wish.”

She beamed at him, excited their friendship, or whatever it was, was not over but also because he quoted Princess Bride. “You pick the movie this time.”

He inclined his head, eyes twinkling. He followed her into the main hallway. No one else was around. Their footsteps echoed on the stone floor, disturbing its peace.

“I’ll see you Friday?”

“Just so, Schönes Mädchen.”

“Hey, Jaqen.” He turned back to her. She pivoted slightly, looking at him over her shoulder. “You give great hugs.” With a wink, she walked away to enter a classroom three doors down, throwing one last glance his way before entering.

He stood rooted to that spot for a long moment. Warring emotions and thoughts fought within him. Running a hand over his face to collect himself, he marched down the hallway. The memory of her arms around him, trying to comfort him would not leave the forefront of his mind. Her soft, gray eyes reading into his soul. Their foreheads touching, her lips so close to his. He shoved the door open harder than necessary. His promise haunted him, like a ghost seeking restitution. Why could he not refuse her? Why could he not walk away? _You are Faceless. You need no one._ Yes, but he wanted her. She had slipped past his guard and settled herself into his being. He wanted her safe. He wanted her happy. He wanted to hold her again.

His thoughts turned dark. The boy, Ramsay, was in a coma but if he woke up, what would he remember? Quickly, he changed course, heading towards the bus stop. Ramsay may remember nothing. He may remember everything. Jaqen was not going to leave that to chance. Silently he beseeched his god for help and gave a promise. The boy would not see tomorrow’s sunrise. _Valar Morghulis._ Arya may have gotten her revenge but she was still not safe with Ramsay breathing. Jaqen would do what needed to be done…to keep the boy quiet…to keep her safe. No one was going to harm a lovely girl again…his lovely girl.

 

* * *

 

“Oh shit. Arya, did you see this?”

“What?” Arya lazily replied to Jon. She sat on the couch, blanket tucked around her. Jon sprawled out on a nearby recliner, playing with his phone. His constant texting irritated her and was very unlike him. Gendry lay on the couch, head in Arya’s lap, almost asleep. She played with his hair, running her hand over and through it. It was something she did with all her brothers, especially when Nymeria was not around. The repetitive motion was calming and kept her hands busy. Sandor lounged on the floor, head propped up on his backpack to better see the TV. They relaxed, watching Fast Five after eating a hearty stew made by Hot Pie the other day.

Jon sat up and faced her, his gray eyes meeting her own. “Ramsay died last night. I just saw a post about it on Facebook.”

Arya’s hand froze on Gendry’s head. A torrent of emotions bombarded her. Surprisingly the strongest emotion was…relief? “Good riddance.” She muttered.

Gendry grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back. No words were necessary. The relaxed feeling in the room shifted after the announcement. Arya’s hand continued its repetitive movements in Gendry’s short hair but her mind exploded. _How did he die? Was it from the fall? What else would it be, stupid?_ Her thoughts turned to Jaqen, especially since their strange encounter under the stairs only yesterday. _Does he know?_ He had whispered his wish to have killed Ramsay, to protect her. A cold thought sunk in. _Is this his doing?_ He was capable of it. She witnessed it in his eyes. The lust for death delivered by his hand. It momentarily frightened her for she saw a new depth to him. _Who is he? Is he a psychopath?_ Yet his gentle touch, his soft words, the feeling of his forehead pressed to hers led her to believe otherwise. Who is this man that he is capable of such violence and kindness? He frightened her and then in the next moment made her feel confident and safe. It was contradictory.  It was maddening. It was fascinating.

She snatched her phone from the armrest and sent a text to Jaqen. She needed to know. **Ramsay is dead. Did you do it?**

A couple minutes later she received his reply. **A girl is safe now.**

Her heart thudded loudly, her eyes widened. A barely audible intake of breath betrayed her.

Gendry turned his head so his blue eyes connected with hers. “You ok?” He whispered, looking up from her lap.

She nodded, noting the concern in his voice. “I just need to get up for a sec.” Hesitantly he rose enough for her to slip from underneath him. His wordless questions bombarded her mind. Shaking her head before he could open his mouth, she shuffled away. She ignored their disquieted looks, walking through the kitchen and stepping out onto the back porch. Night’s darkness surrounded her and she embraced it. Her mind warred with itself. _Jaqen killed Ramsay._ That thought cycled through her mind repeatedly. Honestly, she was not sure how to feel. Ramsay was dead, that pain, that piece of her life she could walk away from now. Her revenge was fulfilled but this had a different sense to it. A finality. His presence, his touch could never haunt her again, he was gone. A part of her was angry that it had not been her fault that Ramsay died. Although his fall out of the window had not been planned, she reveled in the fact she caused him pain. It brought a smile to her lips to think about it. She had fought back and won. She was not helpless. _Am I a bad person?_ Even if his pain made her a bad person, she did not regret her actions. She got her revenge. But Jaqen killed him. Where did that leave her and Jaqen? She looked forward to their time together, she liked how he made her feel. He said he wanted to see her again on Friday but knowing he killed someone… _Even if he killed to protect you?_ _I never asked him to! I proved I can take care of myself!_ It bothered her more than she was comfortable with. Did he think she still needed his protection? Did he not think she was capable of protecting herself? A fire flickered within her, a fire of fierce independence and the need for self-sufficiency. The battle waged in her heart and mind. A struggle between the feeling of warmth and safety she enjoyed around him and the need to not be viewed as a damsel in distress. Did she still want to be friends with him?

The door opened behind her and a presence came to stand next to her. She knew who it was without looking. Years together, sharing secrets, hiding during family events, being one another’s conscience on occasion, she knew he would come.

“I’m glad he’s dead, saves me from having to kill him myself.” Jon stated, staring up at the sky. Only the brightest stars were visible through the city lights. He did not ask how she was doing, he never did. Somehow he always knew and she loved him for it.

“Mmm…” They stood in silence for several minutes, letting their presence be enough. Sometimes, words muddied and disturbed the waters of one’s presence when silence spoke loudly enough to bring solace.  

“If you had a friend who did something…bad… and you found out about it after. Would you still be friends?” _Jaqen killed Ramsay._ It was odd how it sat unsettled within her. Even though she wished to have killed Ramsay…the knowledge Jaqen committed the action. Could she still look at him the same? It was one thing to wish for a death, another to answer the call.

Jon mulled over the question and his answer, staring up at the sky still. She waited patiently, biting her bottom lip. The air was cold and a gentle breeze caused her to shiver. She wished she had grabbed one of the guy’s jackets before stepping out.

“How much do you know about Sandor?”

“Um…he’s intimidating looking but really nice. He loves cars like you. He is terrible at Call of Duty. He eats even more than I do, especially chicken. He really likes chicken. Why?” _What has this to do with my question?_

Jon snorted. “That’s true. You two could win an eating contest easily.”

She punched his arm, smiling.

His joking tone turned serious. “Sandor spent time in juvie. He told me the case said he attacked his older brother and hurt him badly using a wrench. Sandor spent time in the hospital after, his brother almost killing him in the fight. What the courts don’t mention is why Sandor attacked his brother. All they cared about was painting him the aggressor.”

“What happened?”

“His brother hurt their younger sister. He won’t say what happened but it was enough for Sandor to try and kill his brother. He was young, maybe twelve or thirteen?”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Jon faced her, face half hidden in shadows from the streetlights. “Are you still going to be friends with Sandor after hearing this?”

 “Of course. He just wanted to protect his sister.”

“Sometimes the actions people do…are wrong or evil, but it’s the reason why they do those actions that are important. It doesn’t always justify their actions but at least we can see why they did it. Understand?”

She thought of Sandor, how this information now shaped her opinion on him. Sorrow touched her for what he must have gone through, to want to kill his own brother. _What pushed him to such an extreme action?_ The concept of killing one of her brothers horrified her. She loved them, even if they were annoying sometimes. “Is his sister ok now?”

A soft sigh slipped from Jon’s mouth and his frown deepened. “She died within a year of him being in juvie. He won’t talk about her.”

“Thank you…for telling me.”

“Is there something you need to tell me? Where did this question come from?”

How could she explain? “No, I’m just thinking.” She would need a day or so to fully process everything she learned tonight. To truly explore how she felt and further actions. Her confusion about Jaqen was settled though. She wanted to talk to him. She needed to see how she felt around him. He was her friend and a murderer, but to protect her. It was confusing. She trusted him, always had. Could she still? Did he see her as a child needing protection? _He’s going to learn real quick if he thinks I need him to guard me. I don’t need him._ A small piece of her mind, hidden away in the recesses from the fire of her independence, peeked up reminding her of how good it felt to be in his arms, to know he was looking out for her. _Seven hells! Why is this so difficult?_

“I’m here for you, Fish. Let’s get inside, I can see you shivering.” Jon walked her back inside the house, a comforting hand on her shoulder. Once inside she gave him a quick hug, a silent thank you before they ambled back to the living room. Arya dropped onto the couch, emotions unsettled. Gendry reached over and squeezed her hand again, sitting up watching her. She gave him a soft smile.

“Dany text you. Six times.” Sandor’s deep rumble sounded from the floor.

“Seven hells! Are you checking my texts?” Jon grumbled, settling down onto the recliner.

“Whose Dany?” Arya’s curiosity piped up. She thought she knew most of Jon’s friends.

“A girl who gave her number to Jon last week. They won’t stop texting.” Gendry replied wickedly, earning a glare from Jon.

“What?” All of Arya’s prior emotions were replaced with surprise and mirth. She pointedly stared at her favorite brother. “Who. Is. Dany?”

A blush rose on his cheeks, but he kept his face focused on his phone.

Sandor answered for him. “He fell down the last few steps after she winked at him walking out of Coffman. That shit was hilarious.”

The thought of stoic Jon tripping and falling down stairs for a girl caused Arya to laugh, much to Jon’s disapproval. He scowled at her causing her to laugh harder.

“How did you get her number after a spectacular performance like that?”

“Pity. She felt bad, she gave it to him.” Sandor finished, chuckling at the memory.

Jon mumbled something unintelligent, glaring at his so-called-friends. It had been almost a year since he broke up with his last girlfriend, Ygritte. She had been a foreign exchange student from Ireland. Arya really liked her, Ygritte was bold, loud, hilarious and without any sort of verbal filter. Once she went back home, the distance was too much for the both of them so they mutually ended the relationship. Arya wanted Jon to be happy, he deserved it. If any girl treated Jon wrong or just used him, Arya would make sure that girl regretted her actions. They were Starks. The pack looks out for one another.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone following and reading this story!   
> Comments and kudos are love!

It was Friday evening, her shift finally over. After locking up the store, Arya slowly made her way to where Jaqen stood, hip against his car. They had not spoken since the two texts on Tuesday. Now seeing him, a flood of relief and annoyance hit her. She planted herself a couple of feet in front of him, arms crossed. Suddenly her words failed her. What do you say to someone who killed to protect you without asking? Who trained you to be able to protect yourself? The past couple days her emotions warred within her. She proved she could take care of herself. He did not have to be her guardian. Yet at night she still wrapped herself in the red sweater she had stolen from him. It was stupid and she was angry with him and she was not helpless. Undeniably there was a strange sense of security and peace when his scent enveloped her and she tucked her nose and chin under the neckline. The hug they shared, the newfound intimacy beyond flirting haunted her. Beyond her brothers, she had never sought that feeling out before from others. It scared her how much she liked the feeling of his arms around her, of having her arms around him. She felt safe with him and knowing he was looking out for her…but she was still angry at him.

Jaqen watched the range of emotions play out on her face. She worried her lip, eyebrows furrowed, eyes alternating between glaring and worry. His thumbs through his belt loops, he waited for her to speak first. She needed to make a decision and he waited for the result. A part of him wondered if she would spit in his face, call him a murderer and walk out of his life. Another part wondered if she would embrace him, thanking him for looking out for her. He was not sure which scenario would be worse for him. Killing Ramsay had been easier than expected and immediately there had been a previously unknown sense of relief. His lovely girl was safe. Even if she wanted nothing to do with him now, he did not regret his actions. That boy was a menace and would have caused further disaster and harm to someone else if not lovely Arya.

“Where were you earlier?” She asked flatly, noting his professional shirt on under his leather jacket. She refused to acknowledge how distressed she had felt earlier when he did not come in for coffee. The sight of him sipping coffee, reading while waiting for her to finish her shift had become a routine presence. It physically hurt as the hours passed and he did not walk through the door. She tried to deny it but the ache in her chest refused to budge.

“There was a meeting that ran late. A man apologies.” He bowed his head slightly.

“You could have text me.”

“Time escaped a man’s notice.” _Lügner!_ He had started on multiple occasions to text her then deleted the words. He felt he needed to give her space. Another part of him was flustered with what exactly to do now. He was a highly trained assassin, a Faceless Man, No One…and he was unsure how to protect a lovely girl from others and himself. It was foolishness. They stood silently, staring at one another. “Schönes Mädchen, if you don’t…”

“Let’s go to your place.” She interrupted, walking around his car. Before he could move, she opened the passenger door and slid in. She did not know what to say and hoped the words would come to her as they went to his place. She knew she was being unnecessarily harsh and rude. It was unfair to Jaqen. Her pride, her anger, her independence silenced her lips and she crossed her arms in the passenger seat.

Jaqen sighed and sent a silent plea to his god before slipping into the driver’s seat. The short drive was silent, both consumed in their own thoughts and fears. As they walked from the parking garage they hesitantly spoke again.

“A man was unable to procure a movie for tonight.” He softly said, watching her from the corner of his eye.

Her tone was short, clipped. “That’s fine. We can just watch something on TV.”

“Would a girl like to order pizza?”

“I brought popcorn.”

“As you wish.”

Her lips turned up slightly but she kept her eyes focused ahead. Once inside, she started the popcorn in the microwave.

Jaqen changed into a clean white, V-neck t-shirt, still wearing his jeans. He needed to do laundry soon. He stepped out of his bedroom to lean against the counter that jutted out from the wall. She stood unmoving, arms still crossed, watching the popcorn spin in the microwave. Ice radiated from her being. Marble statues had more warmth than she did at the moment. “Arya…” He could not do this, not to her. If this was to be the end then he wished to not drag it out. Let them say their pieces and be done. Truthfully, he wanted to embrace her, to pull her against him and feel her heartbeat. Their moment under the stairs had broken something within him and he yearned for her touch now in a newfound way. _You are No One. You need no one._ He needed to go back to No One but his lovely girl demanded more from him even if she did not realize it. _Was hast Du Mit mir Gemacht?_

“Why did you do it?” She suddenly whirled around and interrupted him again. Her jaw clenched, storms crashing in her eyes. She felt his presence and her frustration, anger and confusion burst forth vehemently. “Why did you kill Ramsay?”

“To protect you.” He hoped she would accept him for his word. She did not need to be privy to his thoughts, concerns and actions. It would be better for her to remain innocent. Yet it was that very fierceness and strength that drew him to her and now it fought him like a tsunami and he wondered if their friendship would survive the wave.

“That’s shit!” Her anger seemed to overwhelmed her but she pushed on, unable to hold back. “I defended myself, you taught me how to. You wanted to kill him, this wasn’t about me!” She accused, voice rising along with her temper.

“No, a man just…”

“Admit it. You wanted him dead from the beginning. You don’t think I can handle myself. All the hours of training… did you think it was some kind of joke?” She scoffed, glaring at him. “I can take care of myself! I don’t need you!”

He materialized standing in front of her before her mind registered that he moved, his face inches away from hers. The threat of violence edged his soft voice, eyes narrowing onto her. “Did a girl think of what would happen if the boy awoke? What would a foolish girl do if he blamed her of pushing him out of the window…of trying to kill him? How would a girl defend herself then?” He seethed, hoping his words penetrated deep into her fiercely independent, beautiful mind.

She stared at him as his words sunk into her feverish mind. It was too much. Taking several steps back to put space between them, she placed her hands on her hips. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, breathing feeling erratic after her explosion at him. His eyes never left hers, demanding her to speak, demanding her to understand. Truly she had not thought of the consequences of Ramsay’s fall. Her focus, her pride, had been wrapped up in her revenge and protecting herself. “He couldn’t hurt me. He didn’t have any proof of…anything! No one saw us!” It was irrational why she felt like she had to fight him about it. It was over and done. Ramsay was dead.

He tilted his head up to look at the ceiling above before speaking slowly. “Perhaps. We cannot be certain. His interest in you was not unknown.”

 Arya thought of Jon’s story of Sandor. He was only trying to protect his sister but others had not seen it that way. That could have happened to her. _Would people even know or care what he tried to do to me? Or would they only see my actions? I could have gone to prison if Ramsay talked._ She knew Jaqen was simply looking out for her, wanting her to be safe. Beyond his spoken words, she sensed it; there was something growing between them. She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. In her mind she knew she had forgiven him.  “You didn’t have to.” She whispered, shoulders slumped, the true weight of his action resting on her. “What if you got caught? You would have gone to prison!”

His eyes softened. A sense of fear held her, but fear for his safety this time. Unconsciously he moved towards her, extending a hand out and cupped her right cheek. He tenderly rubbed the scar on her cheek with his thumb before answering. “A lovely girl does not need his blood on her hands. A man did this so she would not have to.”

“I could have. I wanted him dead. I’m not helpless. You didn’t have to.” She did not move nor acknowledge his touch even though she wanted to lean into his warmth.  The anger within her was dwindling but small flames still licked about her and she could not put it out yet.

“A man knows.” He smiled faintly. “A girl is strong and fierce. It would have been most intriguing to watch her give death to him.”

She snorted then moved away again, to lean against the small kitchen sink. “Ok, so you did this to protect me. Fine.” Taking a deep breath she continued, the flame of anger rising in her. “I got an email yesterday that I’ve been reassigned a new TA. What in seven hells is that about, Jaqen?”

He sighed, running a hand over his mouth and chin. It was an action he had been considering for some time but after their encounter under the stairs, he acted on it. He approached Professor Tyrion Lannister about having a few of his students reassigned because of either their actions towards him or their weekly need of help. It was mostly a lie. A few of the students he mentioned he did not like meeting with alone. The real reason was he did not want to single Arya out to Tyrion and figured a group would be better. Professor Tyrion made a joking remark but seemed to understand and allowed it. Jaqen spoke with Jessica Smith, the friendly and quiet TA about switching a few students with him which she easily agreed too. “A man did not want trouble to be created if it became known of our time together. Time alone can result in… unfortunate consequences for both of us if found out.” He knew it was still not wise for them to be spending time together with her being a student and him a teaching assistant for her class.

“Oh.” She suddenly felt dumb that she had not thought of that. It was not explicitly stated to undergraduate students but she guessed the TAs were told to not get involved with their students. Here he was again looking out for her…and making sure they could see each other. Sort of. “Are we still going to get in trouble if found out?”

He smirked as he shrugged.

For some reason the thought made her laugh. He glanced at her curiously as the laughter bubbled out of her. It was stupid. They were concerned about the repercussions of the university finding out their time together, him training her to defend herself after an attempted rape… and only moments ago they were arguing about Jaqen killing someone. _I think our priorities are slightly skewed._ “I guess we like to live dangerously.”

Pushing herself away from the sink, she moved towards him. At the same moment with an unspoken awareness, they clashed in a suffocating embrace. Her face buried in his chest, his cheek on top of her head, their arms encircling their bodies. An implicit apology and forgiveness infused in their embrace. Her next words rang out clear against his chest. “You’ve killed before?”

He should lie but he felt unable to. Not to her. “Yes.”

She leaned back and looked at him. In that moment there was brutal honesty in his eyes. She knew she could ask him anything and he would tell her. What walls that once surrounded him were crumbling. She could see it. _He cares for you…and you care for him._ Her heart skipped a beat. The revelation had never felt so clear before. _What does this mean for us?_ The thought of him killing someone only seemed of slight importance after the revelation to herself. _I should probably be more concerned about the killing thing._

“Well don’t you think I’m some damsel in distress that’s always needing your help.” She teased, arms still around him. “I can cross the street all by myself and even fired a couple guns before.”

He raised an eyebrow, tone mocking. “Perhaps a man should worry for his safety, a lovely girl may catch him unaware.”

“Ha! I don’t think you’re ever unaware. I bet you sleep with one eye open. Now, Herr H’ghar, the smell of popcorn is making my stomach growl, let’s find something to watch.”

He could not help but tease her back. “A man wondered if a neighbor bought a tiger for how loud the growl was. Luckily its only a girl’s voracious appetite that needs to be appeased.”

“Jerk.” She punched his arm playfully, stepping out of his embrace to switch the popcorn bags in the microwave. He chuckled and walked over to the living room. Turning on the TV, he dropped onto the couch with a smile on his face. His fear of her rejection seemed distant now. _You need no one. The mission is absolute._ That did not seem to be the truth anymore.

She brought over two glasses of water, putting them on the coffee table before retrieving a large plastic bowl containing the two bags of popcorn. As she started to sit down on the other side of the couch, he spontaneously wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her next to him. She cried out, surprised, but giggled when she landed next to him. They only lost a few pieces of popcorn onto her lap. Placing his arm along the back of the couch, she settled herself next to him, bowl in her small lap.

Surprisingly there were no good movies on so they started some travel show about top tourist destinations around the world. The popcorn rapidly vanished between them. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched her lick her fingers, unable to help himself. The urge to snatch her hand and taste her fingers himself fought for dominance but he suppressed it. He did not think that would be wise for either of them. Instead he began to massage the back of her neck with his hand behind her.

“Oh,” her head tipped forward to better accommodate him.

“Does this please a girl?” He purred, a smirk on his face. Her eyes fluttered closed as he continued his attention to her muscles.

She softly moaned. “I hate you. Where did you learn to do this?”

He placed his lips next to her ear, his voice low and seductive. “A man has many magical talents he learned in far away lands a girl may enjoy.” A shudder coursed through her and the temptation to place his lips on her neck increased.

_By all the gods if he keeps talking and breathing on me my panties may hit the floor._ She should change the topic but his very nearness was maddening and exciting. Tipping her head back slightly, she watched him through half-hooded eyes, lips parted slightly. “Mmm…where did a man acquire these pleasurable talents?”

“Exotic places, Schönes Mädchen.” Barely touching, he ran the tip of his nose from the corner of her jaw along her ear as he whispered. She was a siren, her very presence a spell on him and he wished to drown in it. It would be so easy to pull her into his lap and devour her. _Sie ist wunderschön._ But like a siren, he could not have her. She was only a fantasy, a beautiful creature that consumed men and although he reveled in her darkness, eventually his ship would sail away from her.

She froze, unable to process beyond his beguiling scent, his intimate touch and that damnable purr of his that made her want to crash her lips against his until their lips were both swollen and bruised. “Are you trying to seduce me, Jaqen H’hgar?” A coy smile teased her lips.

 He chuckled then pressed his lips to her temple for a chaste kiss before leaning back. “Never. A man is under the spell of a lovely girl.” She did not know how true that statement was.

Her smile widened. Wanting to maintain contact but also feeling unable to support herself anymore, she leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. “Have you really been to exotic places?”

“Just so.”

“I want to travel. My parents went to Paris and said it was beautiful.”

“The Eiffel Tower at night is…wunderschön…stunning.”

“You’ve been to Paris?”

“Yes, but not for long.” He thought of his time there. His window of opportunity was limited to give the gift of death to the dead man. The man would only be in Paris for seventeen hours, a flight in, a quick business meeting then a flight out to the next country on the schedule. It had been tedious but the plan worked flawlessly. As the dead man’s plane took off leaving Paris, his blood had been poisoned already. His body would be cold by the time the plane landed at its next destination.

“I want to go to Iceland. Have you been there?”

He tilted his head, trying to see her face better. “A man has not had the pleasure. Why Iceland?”

“Its beautiful there. The blue lagoon, plus all the geysers. I heard that its great for backpacking and getting close to nature.” She gushed but could not help it. She considered doing a study abroad there for a semester. “No one else will go with me. Actually, most of my family and friends don’t care about traveling or if they do, they want to go to a beach.”

“A girl will get there if she desires it.”

“Yeah, I have a feeling I’ll end up going alone.”

“Ein Mädchen hat mehr Sinn als Mut.”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you just insult me in German?”

“A man wondered the wisdom of a lovely girl traveling alone.”

“Hey, I can take care of myself! But if you’re so concerned, you could come with me if you wanted.” She snuggled closer to him. “We could watch each other’s back and cause mischief.”

He smiled at the image. He could almost see it. They would stay at a local bed and breakfast,  travel around and explore the country during the day, visit the attractions and meet the locals. At night they would sit under the stars and watch the Northern Lights, afterwards warm each other up in their bed. He closed his eyes, dashing the image away. _You are No One, You need no one. The mission is absolute._ However beautiful the image was. It could never be. She had her whole life ahead. He was a dealer of death, a servant to the Many-Faced God. _Valar_ _Dohaeris._ Gently he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It would be safer for her to not be around him. How he wished it was different.

 

* * *

 

His eyes burst open, his dream dissipating as wakefulness saved him. He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. The sheets around him were more disturbed than usual. He wondered if he had thrashed in his sleep. Keeping his eyes open to the darkness around him, he decided to lay back down. Sleep would inevitably evade him, nor did he seek it earnestly at this point. The vividness of his dream lingered at the corners of his mind. Faceless Men were taught to rule their faces, rule their emotions, rule their thoughts and rule their intentions. It was literally beaten into them once they stepped through the wooden doors of the House of Black and White. Ultimate control of self and complete surrender of selfhood was the foundation. Yet the control of one’s dreams was a fruitless task. From the deepest, dark recesses of the mind, images and memories slink out with vampiric intentions to only vanish once awareness shown its light upon it. The parade of faces in his dreams no longer disturbed him. He made his peace long ago with those he gave the gift of death to. They were old acquaintances now, reminding him of successes and failures to better his art of delivering death.

This new dream, _nit ein Alptraum_ , was the first in many years to wake him in a cold sweat, heart pounding. _You are Faceless. Dreams hold no power over you._ This one had though. It began the same as it had over the past half year. Staring into the eyes of the little girl.

_Her big, emerald eyes stared back at him with such profound innocence. She sleepily rubbed them, clutching her stuffed doll tighter. There was no fear in her eyes, only confusion as to the interruption of her rest. He stood immobile in the doorway, debating. The mission had only called for one death, her father’s, and it had been given to the red god. His body lay in the hotel bed in the next room. When the petitioner prayed and paid the Many-Faced God for the diplomat’s death, it was to appear as accidental. The Order thoroughly planned for this mission, specifically giving it to the brother-now-called-Jaqen for his precision and diligence. It took three months of calculated encounters and feigned resourcefulness to achieve an acceptance to join the diplomat’s security detail on this trip. At the appointed time, the dealer of death would enter the dead man’s hotel room in the night and give the gift. Just another life given in dedication._

_However prepared the plan, circumstances happen and the plan has to be altered. Unfortunately on this trip the dead man’s wife chose to surprise her devoted husband at the hotel with their toddler in tow. You are No One. The mission is absolute. Once death has been prayed and paid for, it cannot be taken back._

_The assassin watched the little girl, whom probably thought he was her father coming to say goodnight. His silhouette framed the doorway, face obscured. The change of plans failed the contract. More than one death would be given this night. The girl’s father and mother lay in their bed, no longer breathing. A single bullet hole in each temple. He considered leaving the girl, tucking her in and allowing her to go back to sleep. Timing was key though. If she crawled out of bed to seek her parents, his careful planning would be undone. The mission is absolute. Stepping into the room, he raised his pistol and fired. There was no sound from the gun, no cry from the girl, only silence delivered her soul to the afterlife. Stepping out, he closed the door and left the hotel room to return to his station guarding the family. There was no remorse, no pity. He did what needed to be done. Dwelling on those lives cut short by his hand was futile. No good came from it. Valar Morghulis. The newspapers later claimed it was a murder-suicide._

This time in his dream, when he raised his pistol to silence the little girl…her eyes were no longer green but gray. His lovely girl stared back at him. A beautiful look of trust on her face. His shot faltered and she screamed. The same scream he heard before finding her pinned to a brick wall. This time, though, he was the cause of her pain and agony. 

Hastily throwing off the covers, he rolled out of bed hoping to distract himself from the dream. He snatched his laptop off the table and went into the kitchen. After starting the French press, he opened the laptop knowing decoding would occupy his mind until he needed to leave. The picture beside him did not help his need for distraction. Arya’s smiling face observed him, a reminder of his dream. Angrily, he grabbed it and laid it down, keeping her trusting eyes from looking at him. Immediately his anger lashed out again and he impulsively rose from the bar stool, knocking it over. He flung open the sliding glass door to step out onto the balcony. The cold, night air chilled his skin and hopefully his temper. He leaned over the railing, running his hands through his hair.

_Was hast Du Mit mir Gemacht, Schönes Mädchen?_ He thought of her sitting next to him, head on his shoulder after their seductive teasing. Does she know how close he was to kissing her? How the desire to taste her mouth and pull her onto his lap fought his Facelessness? Amongst the Order, he was known for his control. Somehow around her, it became a battle. It was foolish. If she knew who he truly was, she would run. _You are No One. You need no one._ He wanted her though. Could he still serve the Many-Faced God while being more for her? He knew the answer his Master would give. She is a liability. She is weakness. _How did she get past my guard so quickly?_ Somewhere between her kindness towards him, her tears and smiles, she sunk her claws into him. Yet he did not desire to be released. Perhaps if he saw her more, her control over him would decrease. _Lügner!_  She was his siren and if he answered her call, maybe he would be freed. _Lügner!_

Anger gone, Jaqen stepped back inside, grabbing his hot coffee. He picked up the bar stool and settled on it. Shame wormed its way into him for his actions. Delicately, he righted the picture of Arya…his lovely girl. She was a liability but the friendship she freely offered was impossible to ignore.

_Only friends. Nothing more._ He promised himself.

Focusing his attention on the abandoned laptop, he pulled up the latest papers to decode. The information he was finding about the dead man’s activities and correspondence was worrisome. The professor was selling secrets of his employers to each other subtly. It was an impressive and vain more. His largest benefactor, at the moment, appeared to be the Russian mafia based in Thailand. Jaqen wondered how the professor made those connections but chose not to dwell on it. Truly the dead man was a liability the Order needed to take care of. _Why is the Master waiting?_ Jaqen had asked for time to dig deeper but he was beyond that now. _Why is the order for the gift to be given not sent yet?_ It was not his place to question his Master. His job was to serve and obey. _Valar Dohaeris._ He continued his reading of the professor’s activities, further plotting his demise and death.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this next chapter is on the shorter side, but I promise the next one is long so hang in there.   
> A huge thanks to all reading, giving kudos and comments!

 

The continued, aggravating clicking of his pen caused Arya to seriously consider murder. Although the library was not an ideal location for bloodshed, she was not above it right now. “Stop it.” She hissed, glaring at Gendry as he sat across from her at the wood table.

He did not even have the audacity to look up. “As m’lady commands.”

She kicked him under the table, rewarded with a grunt as her boot hit his shin. Lowering her gaze, she continued working on her homework. Books and papers were scattered over the table belonging to both of them. Gendry was studying for an upcoming exam. His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the notebook in front of him, no longer clicking his pen. His jet black hair started to cover the tips of his ears and Arya wondered if he would get his hair cut soon. It was ridiculous how quickly his hair grew.

She took a sip of her mocha before setting the paper cup back down on the table. She worked early that morning, hence the extra necessary coffee she nursed now. Afterwards she quickly changed at her apartment before meeting Gendry who walked with her to the library. This confounded history paper would be the death of her. It felt like she had spent more time in the library this semester than all of her freshman year, just for this one history paper. She enjoyed the Death and Afterlife class but comparing and contrasting two different ancient civilizations’ burial practices and what that represented for those cultures made her head want to explode.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up just as she noticed a large presence behind her. Before her mind fully registered what was going on, a lascivious, low voice whispered in her ear, causing goosebumps to sprout on her body.  

“If a lovely girl was attacked like so,” he grasped her neck firmly with his hand, “how would she defend herself?”

She kept her eyes down, desperately willing her breathing to stay normal and her mind to THINK instead of dwelling on the warmth of his hand and that intoxicating smell of leather and cinnamon that so easily clouded her judgement lately. “I can hit you with my head, maybe break your nose if I hit hard enough.”

“Good, what else?” Out of the corner of his eye, Jaqen would see the dark-haired boy watching their interaction, poised to intervene at a moment’s notice. He restrained his smile, focusing on his lovely girl before him. 

“I can’t reach your sides or groin well with the back of the chair separating us…I’d go for your face or throat?”

“Well enough.” As he released her, his hand caressed her bare neck. He wondered why she always had her hair pulled up. Not that he minded the unobstructed view or ability to touch her neck unhindered.

Turning in her chair, she lifted her gaze to meet his smug look. “What are you doing here?”

One of his hands had its thumb through a belt loop casually, the other rested on the back of her chair, the feeling of her soft skin still a clear memory. “A man found his office stifling.” He shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye, he analyzed the boy sitting at the table. He recalled seeing his face before…when Arya offered to teach him football, well soccer here. _Americans and their need to be independent._ The boy looked a couple years older than her with a muscled physic, strong jawline and guarded eyes. The way his blue eyes constantly leapt from Arya to Jaqen and back as if assessing the danger and need to intervene was most amusing to the assassin.

“Oh, it is kinda cramped. Want to sit with us? Or can you not sit with your students?” She reached over and started to moving the books and papers from the spot next to her. A quick glanced showed Gendry’s hostile expression focused on Jaqen, openly assessing him. She gave him a swift kick under the table.

“Danke, Schönes Mädchen _.”_ He rounded the table to take the seat on her other side, diagonal from the dark-haired boy. It was petty and childish but he slide his chair slightly closer to the lovely girl as if needing to give himself more table space as he retrieved his laptop from his bag. The narrowed eyes and taut lips at the action betrayed the boy’s distain but he kept his mouth shut. _Is the boy jealous or just protective?_

“Jaqen, this is my friend Gendry. Gendry, this is Jaqen, he is a TA for one of my classes.” She quickly introduced, trying to ignore the tension seeping from her friend before her. _What’s his problem?_

Jaqen politely inclined his head while Gendry grunted an acknowledgment while continuing to assess him. _You are Faceless. You are No One. The mission is absolute._ A possessiveness arose within Jaqen like an ugly monster lurking just beneath the waves of consciousness to spew its venom. Casually, he rested his arm on the back of her chair after setting his laptop up. The boy’s body stiffened as he pretended to have his eyes on the notebook before him. _Eifersucht. Wie interessant._ He wondered what their relationship was for the boy, Gendry, to be so possessive of her.

“A man has a question for a girl. Since a certain text was sent a man has received a greater volume of attention from a particular woman causing him much distress. A man wondered if this was a girl’s malicious intention all along?” Since the text sent to Margaery about him having a girlfriend, the shameless woman’s innuendos and lustful looks had only increased. Jaqen wondered if he would have to eventually say something to Professor Tyrion or finally she would just give up. The intuition that she thrived on the challenge still held sway in his mind and he doubted she would give up anytime soon.

A blush crept onto Arya’s cheeks at the reminder of the ‘certain text’ and the following closeness. “Ha, I tried to help.” She scoffed, giving him a side-eye. “Guess you gotta get yourself a real girlfriend.” His eyes were smoldering, one eyebrow raised slightly. She had to look away. _Damn his beautiful bronze eyes, damn his seductive voice, and damn his ability to unnerve me and make me blush like some maiden. Get it together! I wonder what sexy is in German, you should ask him. Shut up!_

 He watched the blush deepen on her cheeks as she bit her lip. If they were not in a public place he would have loved to invade her space to further her reaction. The temptation to nibble her earlobe and kiss her neck flittered by but he dashed it aside quickly. Instead he took the safer course of action. He leaned back and teased her, coveting her attention. “Perhaps. A man may require assistance as he is still new to this country and flirting has never been his strength.”

She tipped her head back and laughed. “I doubt that, Herr H’ghar. I bet you make women’s ovaries explode just walking down the street.”

“A man has no intention of causing such unwanted violence.” His voice took on feigned offense as he teased. No longer able to resist the siren before him, he moved his hand from the back of her chair to clasp the back of her neck and ever so gently rub his thumb along its length. She giggled, scrunching her shoulders at his touch but not pushing his hand away. “You hurt a man with these false accusations and blame him for something beyond his control? A girl is most cruel.”

Before she could retort, practically purring for his hand felt so good rubbing her neck, Gendry interrupted.

“Arya, what time is it?” He growled, eyeing them both warily.

Arya glanced at her phone, embarrassed because she momentarily forgot about him amidst the flirting. Jaqen slowly retracted his hand as Arya answered. “Your class starts in fifteen minutes.”

“It’s ok, I can skip today.”

“What? NO! You’re not going to use me as an excuse for failing that class.” She teased. “Go to class! Besides, I gotta get going soon too.”

Gendry purposefully looked at her, holding her gaze then winked. “As m’lady commands.”

“Ugh, get out of here, you stupid bull, before I consider throttling you in your sleep.”

He chuckled, slowly gathering his things. Tossing his backpack on, he placed a hand on her shoulder hesitantly. “Text me later?”

“Sure, want to meet up after class?”

“Yeah.” With a last glare at Jaqen, Gendry squeezed her shoulder than walked towards the nearby exit.

“Will a man see a lovely girl on Friday?”

“Oh!” She turned slightly to face Jaqen. “I was going to text you later but Shireen wants to hang out on Friday because her boyfriend will be busy doing…something artsy. But I need to go to MOA and wondered if you’ve been yet and want to go with me on Saturday?”

“MOA?”

“Mall of America. I need to pick up a couple Christmas presents for family. I hate doing my shopping in December during finals. Its easier to get most of it done before. If you aren’t tired, maybe you could teach me some stuff afterwards?”

He rubbed a hand over his chin and mouth thoughtfully. Saturday he expected a call from the Order after sending some particularly interesting information. _Maybe a call can be made on Friday?_ He decided he could have the arrangement made. “Of course. Does a man need to drive?”

“Sure, we can text in the morning. Now, stop distracting me! I really need to work on this paper.” She scowled at him then made a big show of turning away and returning to the book in front of her. Truthfully her heart was still pounding and palms sweaty. She needed to momentarily distance herself to regain her control and composure. _Its just harmless flirting, nothing is going to come of it. You hope it does though. Shut up!_ She had never been interested in guys beyond friendship much. There were only a few and typically the interest lasted a nanosecond before she learned something about them that turned her off. When she first met Gendry, she had a crush on him for a short time but he became a brother and her romantic feelings disappeared. There was only one guy who she called a ‘boyfriend’ and that was short-lived and painful. She repressed a shudder thinking about it. This man beside her though, he was an enigma that drew her in.

She chanced a quick peek. He concentrated on his laptop screen, reading some report. His white forelock caressed his perfect jawline. A fleeting memory of twirling it around her finger came to mind. _Gods, it was so silky soft. I wonder if it still is?_ His straight, sharp nose jutted out above bowlike lips that looked so sensual she immediately envied any person who had been blessed enough to taste them. Suddenly his tongue emerged and licked his delectable lips quickly to moisten them before retreating to its home. The softest sigh escaped from her own lips before she realized. The revelation that her quick peek had turned into an full-on staring at his mouth caused her to sharply inhale and rub a hand over her eyes. _What is wrong with you? He is just a friend!_ _A super sexy, handsome friend that flirts with you. He doesn’t see you as anything more. He won’t see you as anything more. Arya Horseface, remember? He could do way better than you._ The thoughts hit her in the gut, a truthful reminder. _Concentrate on school._ So she tried to. Picking up her book, she continued her reading about burial practices, taking notes when applicable. Meanwhile a small piece of her conscience held onto the fact that he called her ‘Schönes Mädchen’ and that warmed her heart.

  

* * *

 

 

“ ‘You guys are gonna get pitch slapped so hard your man boobs are going to concave.’”

Shireen giggled at, oddly enough, one of her favorite lines from Pitch Perfect. Arya sat next to her on the couch, sharing headphones as they watched the movie off Shireen’s laptop. Although this would not have been on Arya’s top picks for a movie, she liked Fat Amy. The downside being Shireen would be singing the songs from the movie for the next week. _The things you do for friends._ Arya pulled the neckline of her fleece sweater up so she could rub it on her bottom lip. The smell of leather and cinnamon greeted her. Technically it was Jaqen’s red fleece sweater he lent her and she conveniently kept forgetting to give it back. She only wore it sometimes…occasionally…when alone…alright, whenever she could while at her apartment, which was often. _Its just so soft and smells good. Uh huh, that’s the only reason, sure. Shut up, it is!_ Shireen believed the sweater was one of Jon or Gendry’s she had swiped from them while doing laundry.

Catching her off-guard, Arya’s phone began to vibrate next to her. _Who would be calling me?_ Glancing at it, the name on the screen caused her to audibly groan. She answered  it, taking the earbuds out and walking towards the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hello, Arya. Do you have a few minutes to talk?” Although it sounded polite, Arya knew it meant her mom was going to speak with her and she had better make time now. The army phrase she heard before came to mind when thinking of Catelyn Stark- if she told her troops to jump, the correct response is ‘how high?’

“Yeah, I’m just watching a movie with Shireen.”

“That’s great, dear. I won’t take long. Perhaps Shireen can help you.”

Arya waited, a slight hint of worry worming into her gut.

“Thanksgiving is next week and you need to wear a dress…”

“Mom!” She grumbled but was ignored.

“…I have some work guests coming and you need to look like a lady instead of a girl just rolled out of bed. Now you can have Shireen help you pick one or I will.”

Arya rolled her eyes, glad her mom could not see the action. “Fine, I’ll get Shireen to help.” Her mother was a big name event planner around the Twin Cities. In the past few years her business had expanded and she had begun to travel to New York, Houston and Las Vegas for events.

“Excellent! Who knows, maybe it’ll be girl bonding for you. Gods know you spend most of your time with Jon and his friends.”

“Yeah…”

“It’ll be lovely to see you soon. Bran and Rickon miss you. Will you be riding over with Jon?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good, let me know if you need anything. I’ll see you on Thursday then.”

“Wait!” Arya bit her lip, did she really want to do this? “Mom, is it ok if I bring a friend?”

A pause reverberated before her mother answered. “Who is it?”

“He’s a friend. A foreign student from Germany. I just figured he wouldn’t have anyone to spend Thanksgiving with…or that he’s actually ever celebrated the holiday. I’m trying to give him the American experience.”

She could hear the smile through the phone. “Of course, that’s wonderful, dear. Make sure he wears something nice. Oh! I’m getting a call. I love you, good-bye.”

Click.

Arya slowly took the phone away from her ear. It still stung, the dismissive way her mother treated her. It was not done maliciously, that’s just how her mother was. Her eldest brother, Robb, was the golden child. Sansa was the beautiful, perfect lady like their mother. Bran was a genius, who needed special attention due to him being in a wheelchair. Rickon was the baby of the group, still in elementary school. So that left Arya with the leftovers of her mother’s attention and affection. She was the rebellious child, the one who would not fit into the mold her mother desired.  More than once Catelyn Stark would complain that Arya should be more like her sister. Instead Arya would run through the woods near her home with Nymeria, tracking mud and twigs onto the spotless floor of the family home. That was one of the reasons she had become so close to Jon while growing up. They both were the outcasts in Catelyn Stark’s eyes. Jon was her nephew, and although family, she made it obvious her cortices were because of her husband’s desire for him to live with them. Jon’s mother, Eddard Stark’s sister, died while he was an infant, father unknown. Even after Eddard’s death, Catelyn tolerated Jon out of respect for Eddard’s memory. Strangely enough, she was very welcoming to Jon’s friends that he would bring, usually those without a family and neighbor boys. Catelyn was the perfect hostess and doting surrogate mother to the pack of ragtag boys that swarmed the house.

“Are you going to bring Jaqen to Thanksgiving?” Shireen had twisted around, arms crossed over the back of the couch to watch her friend.

“I thought it would be nice.” Arya shrugged.

Shireen gave her a sideways look and teasing smile. “I’m pretty sure I’m the only person you’ve brought to your parents’ house…How do I know you’re not secretly dating?”

“Ugh!” Arya put her hands over her face. “We’re just friends. I promised I’d tell you if that changed. Seven hells!”

“Are you two still going to MOA tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Well its only fair that I get to meet him then, seeing as I’m covering for you.”

Arya had told Jon and Gendry she could not play soccer tomorrow morning because Shireen was dragging her to the mall. They relented, accepting her lie easily. “If he’s not busy after…” She changed topics before Shireen could needle anything else out of her. “Hey, can I raid your closet. Apparently I have to wear a dress now for Thanksgiving. My mom wants to impress some people she’s invited over.”

Shireen leapt off the couch squealing before Arya finished her sentence. “Yes! Let’s go! I just bought a new dress you might like!”

Arya rolled her eyes but allowed herself to be dragged into Shireen’s room for the torture of trying on clothes. This was infinitely better than whatever her mother would pick out for her, but still torturous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm wondering about trying something new. At the end of each chapter doing a "sneak peek" into next week's chapter. What do y'all think? Would you like that? Please leave me a comment and let me know. If it would get confusing or annoying I won't do it then. 
> 
> Here's Chapter 14's sneak peek as a trial run:  
> (It doesn't have the italics for thoughts but you get the gist.)
> 
> Arya grasped Jaqen’s hand as she weaved them through the throng of people lingering in front of the food court next to the elevator. Her neck felt hot where his lips had touched her. It had been a stroke of luck that the elevator stopped when it did. Consumed in his embrace and his lips on her skin, her knees had threatened to give way beneath her and her heart felt it would explode with how fast it had been beating. She found words useless at the moment. What should I say about that interaction? Hey thanks for helping me make my ex extremely uncomfortable? Or by all the gods please pull me against you again and make me forget everything besides your touch? She shook her head, aware of his hand still holding hers. The idea of releasing it shot a pang of loss through her so she held on. He hasn’t let go either.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm posting this chapter a little earlier than I usually do...because I love it and can't wait! Let me know what you think! Also its longer than my normal chapters so...you're welcome. ;) Have a great weekend!

Jaqen bore witness to many captivating places during his time as a Faceless Man and as an apprentice before. His feet had carried him to awe-inspiring places that were the epitome of beauty and to dark, haunted places that seemed the gateway to hell. Personally, he marveled more at nature and its ability to create than man-made structures. Man bore within the ability to create beauty and nightmares, evident in the awry of possessions created over the centuries of mankind’s consciousness after primal instinct. Nature was. There was no evil, no good. Nature created because that is what it did.

Walking beside Arya, he gave due credit to the engineers who created the massive Mall of America. It boasted three floors of stores that would satisfy the tastes of all its customers. Arya told him that the fourth floor was a movie theater and restaurants meanwhile the ground floor, well below the first floor, was an aquarium. In the center of the mall was an amusement park, geared more towards children for its name was Nickelodeon Universe, but a few of the rides definitely catered more towards adults. The mall was impressive to behold, a feat of architecture. Unfortunately, parking had been atrocious, but Jaqen chose not to hold it against the place.

He was astounded by the sheer volume of people already there at eleven in the morning. It was a Saturday so he guessed it was not unexpected, Arya made no comment on it. He found himself walking a bit closer to her than necessary, not just because of the crowded feeling in the walkways but the undercurrent of protection he felt towards her. He chose to refrain from sharing his feelings, even if it brought out her denial of needing protection and stubborn streak which he found endearing. His eyes flickered noting the exits and the fastest escape routes, an unbreakable habit now. If Arya noticed his unease, she made no comment, leading them past the stores.

“We don’t have to be here long, I just have a few things to grab.” Indeed she had noticed his slight stiffness, the restless way his eyes shifted about. “Are you busy after this?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Ok, well…would you want to come over? To my apartment?”

His eyes twinkled mischievously as he caught her eye. “Is a lovely girl trying to seduce a man?”

She laughed and punched his arm, feeling the warmth blossom on her cheeks. “No, Herr H’ghar. My roommate, Shireen, has been begging to meet you. I promised her if you weren’t busy afterward, maybe you’d stop by.”

He pondered the offer. There seemed to be no harm in the action. “A man would be honored.”

“Great, I’ll text her later.”

“How did a lovely girl meet this Shireen?”

They continued their leisurely stroll as Arya explained how she and Shireen met in high school, their freshman year as roommates at the University together, Shireen’s family and their friendship. She wondered if she was boring him but he appeared genuinely interested, frequently asking questions.  She was telling him about spring break in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina last year when she happened to glance over the open walkway and notice someone she preferred to never see again. _Why is he here? Seven hells! Did he see me?_ Her mind grappled with what to do. He and, it looked like, a few friends were walking in the same direction but on the other side of the many kiosks. She was not afraid of him but she did not trust herself to hold her tongue, or her fists now, if he spoke to her. Then a new way to get back at the jerk who attempted to smear her reputation in high school sprouted into her mind.

“Hold my hand.” Arya demanded, grabbing Jaqen’s hand on her right side, closest to the store fronts. She gave him no choice as she enclosed their hands. “Pretend to be my boyfriend.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking between their joined hands and her biting her bottom lip. _What caused this?_ His eyes quickly scanned those around them but he did not notice any immediate threats. He wanted to ask but decided to keep things light-hearted and tease her even if he was on edge now, caused by her action and sudden tenseness. “A man is most confused by a girl’s intentions. First she claims to not be seducing a man yet now she forces a man to hold her hand. Will he need to prepare to fight off her lips from seeking his?” He doubted he would try and defend himself if this action did come about. There was something about her…he could not tell her ‘no’. Nor did he want to.

Glancing across, she saw the one she avoided entering into a clothing store with his friends. She took a deep breath. “Not yet.” She winked, unable to help the sly smile she gave him. Although she knew nothing would come of it, the flirting game they played held an appeal to her. “My ex-boyfriend was across the way. We didn’t end on good terms.”

His hand clenched hers, voice low and harsh. “Did he hurt you?”

She squeezed his hand in hers as they kept walking. “He tried, wait, not like you’re thinking!” She quickly clarified, sensing his sudden rage and further tightened grip on her. “He…well…” she sighed, looking up momentarily as if seeking the old gods for wisdom. “He wanted us to…that’s not right. He felt entitled that since he was my boyfriend I had to put out for him. It wasn’t even my idea initially to go out with him. Gods, for some stupid reason, I let Sansa convince me that I needed to try dating at some point while in high school. He liked me, so I said yes. I broke up with him pretty quickly after. I didn’t care. He was pissed and started spreading rumors around school that I was a slut. The irony is I’m still a virgin and most people who knew me didn’t believe him. It did make my last two years there a bit miserable. I got in a couple fights with guys who thought the rumor was true.”

She stated it all matter-of-factly but Jaqen thought he could sense a residing anger in her tone. He questioned if she was truly over the event as she pretended to be. He twisted his hand so their fingers were now entwined and palms pressed together. “A man will gladly pretend to be a lovely girl’s boyfriend as long as she desires.”

“Better be careful what you say. I’ll hold you to it.”

He chuckled. “As you wish.”

Laughing, she noticed how good her hand felt in his. Romance never had a huge appeal to her, having watched her older siblings with their temporary paramours. She had held Edric’s hand a few times because he said that’s what girlfriends do and they kissed but otherwise her experience was zilch. The warmth of Jaqen’s hand eased up her arm and into her chest before sinking into her gut. It was a new sensation and made her feel a bit giddy. _Get it together. He is just being nice._ They were walking so close now, her shoulder brushing his arm with almost every step. He wore a plaid, long sleeve shirt with his dark wash jeans, having left his leather jacket in his car. _Gods, why does he always look like he just walked out of a magazine!_ She could not help but glance at her own, unremarkable attire. She wore a light gray sweater with the university’s logo on it that was several sizes too big, having swiped it from either Jon or Gendry, she couldn’t remember anymore, over holey jeans and her black and white high-top Converses. The memory of her mother recently calling her a ‘girl who looked like she just rolled out of bed’ came to mind. It was true. She had thrown her hair in a quick bun and was ready to go. She did not wear make-up, choosing those extra minutes to sleep. Her pierced ears filled in a long time ago so she no longer wore earrings. A sudden, unbridled shame filled her. _Why would he want to be seen holding my hand? He is gorgeous and I’m…me._ The lingering looks thrown his way from those they passed by did not go unnoticed. She shoved the feeling deep down. _It doesn’t matter what they think. We’re just friends. Let them look!_ A secret place within her glowed at the thought of others assuming they were together.

She directed them to the elevators, mentioning she wanted to jump to the third floor and the escalators were packed. They stood in the group waiting when the doors finally opened and they were able to pick their spot in the far back corner. Only a few other people got on with them. Jaqen and Arya’s back were against the hand railing, facing the door, hands still clasped. She was mentioning she wanted to stop at a video game store to get something for her youngest brother when the doors opened again, just as they were able to fully close.

A group of three guys and a girl, about college age, stepped in, forcing those already in the elevator to make room. Jaqen felt Arya stiffen beside him and a scowl mount itself upon her face. He wondered which boy disturbed her. Gently he let go of her hand to pull her in front of him and wrap his arms around her waist. He placed his lips next to her ear and whispered for only her to hear. “Fear cuts deeper than swords.”

Initially she was shocked but followed his movements to find herself within his embrace. It felt so intimate, so comforting. Her back was against his chest, their arms wrapped around her lithe body. She could not help but relax under his touch, it gave the promise of protection and also to not let her do anything stupid. Maybe relaxed was not the right word. Now all her senses felt on fire, her mind acutely aware of everywhere their bodies touched. When he whispered to her, she understood he meant to comfort her, but his warm breath caused her stomach to clench and goosebumps to appear on her neck and arms. Tipping her head back to place her lips next to his ear, she responded just as inaudibly. “I’m not afraid of him. I’m afraid you’ll have to hold me back from kicking his ass if he tries to talk to me.”

Jaqen chuckled. There was his fierce girl. He tightened his grip around her, letting himself pretend for a moment this was real. The warmth of her body pressed against his. His cheek against her temple, his fingers drawing patterns on her sides. The smell of lavender in her hair filled his nostrils; he wished to drown in it and never come up for air again. His musings were interrupted by a blond-haired boy, one of those who walked in just as the door was closing.

“Oh, hi Arya.” The boy eyed them, as if suddenly noticing them in the back corner, not five feet away from where he stood, back against the handrail.

“Hey.” She spared a glance at Edric, her tone reproachful. Her hands tightened in Jaqen’s grip. All she wanted to do was go over and bloody his nose, maybe his lip too. She took a deep breath, she would not allow him to get a reaction out of her. She was over him and his stupid, selfish ego.  

“What’s up? Haven’t seen you since graduation.” His deep blue, almost purple, eyes watched her but occasionally glanced up to the man holding her. 

“Nothing. This is my boyfriend.” She smirked noticing he still wore the same light purple polo shirt from high school with its collar popped up. He looked like he just left some ritzy tennis club but she knew his family did not come from wealth, even if he liked to pretend otherwise. He had been a nice guy, easily good-natured and shy but it was his feeling of entitlement to her body that made her walk away.

“Oh, hi.” Edric nodded awkwardly. “I thought you said you’d never date anyone again.”

“Perhaps she needed to meet the right man instead of a boy.” Jaqen purred, glancing at the impudent boy before pressing his lips to her neck.

She giggled and automatically pressed her body harder against his. _What’s wrong with me?_ The warmth in her belly was quickly being stoked into a fire. His lips on her neck was causing her to lose focus.

Edric’s eyes bulged slightly before turning to his friends, attempting to ignore the two.

Jaqen felt her giggles’ vibration against his lips and he fought to suppress a moan and devour her, oh so lovely, pale skin. Her body pressed against him so there was not even air between them did not help lessen his desire. He dragged his lips, feeling her shudder beneath his touch, to plant a delicate kiss on the corner of her jaw. The elevator’s ding announced their arrival to the third floor and Jaqen regretfully but wisely withdrew his lips from her soft skin. The inhabitants  of the elevator piled out, a small swarm adding to the coursing river making their way along the walkways of the mall.

Arya grasped Jaqen’s hand as she weaved them through the throng of people lingering in front of the food court next to the elevator. Her neck felt hot where his lips had touched her. It had been a stroke of luck that the elevator stopped when it did. Consumed in his embrace and his lips on her skin, her knees threatened to give way beneath her and her heart felt it would explode with how fast it had been beating. She found words useless at the moment. _What should I say about that interaction? Hey thanks for helping me make my ex extremely uncomfortable? Or by all the gods please pull me against you again and make me forget everything besides your touch?_ She shook her head, aware of his hand still holding hers. The idea of releasing it shot a pang of loss through her so she held on. _He hasn’t let go either._

Once they made it to the video game store, Arya quickly bought the video game intended for her youngest brother and spying the latest Halo game, snatching that for Jon. Their clasped hands ended when Arya paid for the games but magically resumed once they stepped out of the store. It was not a conscious decision. It felt as if their hands had been magnetized to one another and the strain of keeping them separated was too much.

“Are you getting hungry?” Arya asked. The third floor was where most of the restaurants and the food courts were so Arya figured now was the best time. Plus her stomach was gurgling. “We can grab lunch at one of the places here if you want.”

“A man can eat now.”

“Alright, but you’re picking out where. It only seems fair as I’m practically dragging you all over the country with how much walking we’re doing.”

“What does a girl suggest?”

“Well, there is always the food court if you want something cheap and fast. Chipotle is on a corner but the line is usually really long. Cadillac Ranch is ok, kind of more of a bar feel. Bubba Gump’s is fun, it’s a take off of the movie Forrest Gump. They actually have the real suit that Tom Hanks wore for the movie on display in the front! Crave is really good, a bit spendy but the sushi is tasty. There’s also Margaritaville across from that. Can’t go wrong with Coldstone Creamery if you just want to get ice cream…and that’s the places just on this floor. Overwhelmed yet?”

“It has been a long time since a man indulged in ice cream.”

She raised a quizzical brow, smirking. “I thought you preferred things dark and bitter.”

“A man can make an exception occasionally.” He shrugged.

“Ice cream it is!”

They quickly found the shop front and stood in line. Arya chose caramel latte flavor ice cream with pecans, chocolate chips, cookie dough and whipped topping. Jaqen was just going to get the dark chocolate flavor ice cream but after Arya argued he had to get some kind of topping, he added strawberries claiming she had to help him eat them. They found a table in the food court area next to the railing, overlooking the amusement park.

“I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” Arya tried to deepen her voice, watching Jaqen from across the table. He raised his eyebrows, spoon in mouth. “Please tell me you know The Godfather! It’s a classic!”

He slowly pulled the spoon out of his mouth, eyes never leaving hers.

She was aghast. “How do you not know that movie? Gah! Did you grow up under a rock or were your parents super strict?” She shook her head. “We have so much to catch you up on.”

He smiled at her comment. No, he had not grown up under a rock but close enough. His earliest memories were of spending hours shut away in a closet so his parents could get drunk and high without him bothering them. Once he was in the House of Black and White, free time was rare and his Master openly expressed his disdain for the waste of time he thought movies were. When he was a teenager, him and his English brother snuck out and saw The Godfather so he was familiar with the movie and the line she was trying to quote. He enjoyed watching her squirm and her horrified look at his supposed lack of education in movies she deemed important. “What is this offer a man cannot refuse?”

Her head turned to watch as the screams of the passengers on the roller coaster flew by them. _The worst he can do is say no. Just ask!_ She twirled her spoon in her ice cream, gathering her thoughts. “Are you doing something on Thanksgiving?”

“A man does not believe so. Should he be?”

“Well, would you like to come to my house, well my family’s home, for Thanksgiving? I already asked my mom and she said its fine. I figured it’s another American tradition you should experience and it may be slightly more fun than spending the day alone.” She bit her lip and looked down at her ice cream. There it was. If he accepted he would be one of the few she had brought home and would meet her family, however terrifying that is. If he declined, she would felt hurt. _Maybe he has another friend whose he’s going to spend the day with? Maybe he would prefer to be alone instead of dealing with my crazy family?_

His eyes softened as he watched her. Here she was again, looking out for him in her own way…trying to remind him that he did not have to be alone. He reached over and grasped her chin, tugging her lip from between her teeth with his thumb. “A man would be honored.” Releasing her, he leaned back although he ached to rub his thumb along her bottom lip, to feel her breath. He sent a silent plea to the Many-Faced God for strength.

She smiled shyly, his touch having caused her heartrate to increase. She could not help glancing at his own lips. Quickly she took a bite of her ice cream to distract her. Once she felt in control of herself again she spoke. “I feel like I need to warn you about my family. There is a lot of them and they are crazy. There will probably be others too, I’m not sure who all will be there.”

 “Who does a man need to know about?”

“Oh where to begin?” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Well my mom is Catelyn Stark. She’s a big name event planner, some of her clients or colleagues are coming I think. She’s a Northern version of Martha Stewart, minus the prison stuff. She’ll love you. My oldest brother, Robb, will probably be there with his wife, Talisa. I think my sister Sansa is flying back from her school in Chicago, which means she’s probably bringing her best friend Jeyne. Ugh. Um…you’ll meet my younger brothers Brandon, or Bran as he prefers, and Rickon. Bran is in high school still. Rickon is only nine. He was an ‘oops’ baby. Um…Gendry and Jon will be there. Theon will probably show up, he’s a friend of Robb’s who somehow adopted out family; he also thinks he’s the gods’ gift to women. Sandor might come too. Actual adults, my mom’s friend Peytr Baelish will be there. He is creepy as hell and clearly wants to hook up with my mom but she doesn’t see it. There were childhood friends. Hopefully Robert Baratheon doesn’t come. He is a family friend and helps run the company my dad and him started. Robb has taken over my dad’s position now that he’s graduated with a business degree. I hate when Robert comes, he always gets drunk and stares at me weird. Otherwise there are always some neighbors who come over. My mom’s cooking is amazing so people typically find some kind of excuse to show up. Oh, you’ll get to meet Nymeria also!”

“A lovely girl has a large family.”

“Yeah, I like them most of the time. Ready to keep going?”

Jaqen followed Arya as they threw away their trash and leapt back into the continuous flow of bodies going about their way in the walkways of the mall. His hand sought hers again on its own accord. She shot him a dazzling smile, interlacing their fingers before focusing on finding the next store. The coldness of his heart melted the more time he spent with her. That beautiful smile directed at him with their hands entwined, his mind was fracturing. The Faceless side insisted he needed to walk away, he was no longer objective. She was good cover for his guise of a TA but her heart, her feelings were unimportant to the mission and the red god. His Master would question the sense of spending so much time with her without its necessity for the mission. _You are No One. The mission is absolute._ The side that was previously unknown to him, these terribly beautiful feelings, the side named Jaqen by a scared lovely girl in a dark alley, this side wanted nothing more than to feel her against him again, to taste her plump lips, to protect her from the pain the world continued to throw at her and allow her to show him how to feel and care. To not just be No One but to be her someone. It was wrong. Years of dedication and selflessness undone by this one lovely girl unknowingly. He did not blame her. She was fierce, strong, beautiful, innocent, kind and full of life. How could a man resist her? Even the darkness and revenge within her called out to his own. No good would come of this yet still he clung on, like a drowning man holding onto the only thing he can find to stay afloat.

They finished up Arya’s shopping and headed back to his car. Pleased with her successful purchases, she made a mental note to text Jon. He usually was the one who shopped with her, typically groaning but ogling a few of the ladies. On the way back to the apartment, she turned on music to try and distract from her nervousness. _You’re being stupid. It’s not a big deal._ It felt like a big deal. She text Shireen once they left the mall. _Why am I so nervous? I’ve been to his places lots of times now._ It was different. She was welcoming him into a piece of herself in a new way. He would see where she called ‘home’ while at school, her place to get away and relax. He would meet her roommate. Then it hit her. It felt like she was bringing a new boyfriend over to begin introducing him. _It’s not like that! We’re just friends!_ _Friends who kiss each other’s necks and hold hands for almost two hours?_ Although their hands were no longer intertwined, her palm seemed to be holding onto the heat in a memory of his touch. She peeked over at him quickly. _Would I want to truly date him? Not that it’ll ever happen._ Physically, he was a specimen of masculinity. When he stared into her eyes, his bronze meeting her gray ones, she felt a tingle shoot through her all the way to her toes. Even his white forelock she found ridiculously attractive and wanted to twirl it around her finger before pulling him in close for a kiss. She shoved the thought away before she started hyperventilating thinking about his lips on hers. _Seven hells!_ There was more to him. Most of the guys she knew were only surface level interesting. Jaqen was an endless well that she wanted to dive in to and explore. _Who is the real Jaqen H’ghar?_ She wondered if she would ever truly find out as they pulled into her apartment complex’s parking.

Jaqen helped carry her bags up to the apartment, not holding hands. He tried to get all the doors for her but a few times she snuck by and grabbed the next one before he could. He would mock glare as he walked through the open door but end up smiling at her overly courteous manners. Her apartment was on the third floor so they took the stairs, an almost jovial race to get to the top.

“Shireen?” Arya called out after she unlocked and opened the door. For a brief moment she feared an overwhelming, pungent stench would attack them. Luckily she noticed only a single candle lit on the kitchen island. It smelled like apple pie which was an improvement. She tossed her bags onto the couch and took Jaqen’s.

“Hi!” Shireen came out of her room in a pink baby doll style dress over leggings, her long hair in perfected waves. All smiles and bright eyes, she glided over to where they stood just inside the apartment. She extended her hand. “I’m Shireen, you must be Jaqen. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.” He took her hand, giving a firm, quick shake.

“So, how did everything go? Was that your first time at MOA?” Shireen stepped around the kitchen island to pour steaming water out of a water kettle on the stove into a mug.

“It was fine. I think that was your first time, right?” Arya looked to Jaqen for confirmation as she moved and sat on a bar stool.

Jaqen followed, sitting next to Arya. “Just so.”

“What did you think, Jaqen? Did you guys do anything fun?” Shireen dipped her tea bag into her mug, leaning against the sink, facing them.

“It was most impressive.”

“And for fun?” Shireen pressed.

Arya rolled her eyes. “We got ice cream. The task was to pick up presents. Just cause we went didn’t mean we had to wander for hours like some people.”

Shireen’s jaw dropped slightly, eyes wide. “You just bought your stuff and left? Seriously? Its his first time, Arya! You should have taken him to Sea Life Aquarium! Even a few of the amusement park rides would have been memorable. Did you at least go into any of the weird stores with him?”

Suddenly uncomfortable and realizing she never really asked Jaqen specifically if there was anything he wanted to do, she squirmed in her seat. She had been so focused on accomplishing her task and then distracted by his touches.

“It is fine.” Jaqen intervened, noting Arya’s uncomfortableness. “A man saw what he needed to see. He also tasted what he desired.” He turned his head subtly and gave her a quick wink.

Arya abruptly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide her nervous and turned-on smile. _Is he talking about the elevator? Oh gods…_

Luckily Shireen did not comment on Arya’s flustered action. “Next time you gotta do better. What are you guys doing now?”

Arya shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well Tommen and I are going to see the new Marvel movie if you guys want to come with. It could be a double date.”

“Shireen!” Arya exclaimed, wanting to melt into the floor. What would Jaqen think? Would he think she had been saying that he was her boyfriend?

“A man regrets that he must decline. There are matters that require his attention later.” He returned his attention to the lovely, blushing girl beside him. “A man finds he will be busy next week on a holiday.”

“Oh? Are you going to the Stark house?” Shireen took a sip of her tea. “Don’t forget to wear something nice. Mrs. Catelyn is particular about that.”

“Truly? What else does a man need to know?”

Shireen pretended to think deeply before smiling impishly. “Don’t let Arya drink too much. She is such a lightweight and alcohol makes her even more reckless than she already is. Before you know it she’ll either be trying to climb a telephone pole or dancing on a table. Could go either way.”

Arya sat stunned and mortified.

Jaqen raised an eyebrow, looking between Shireen and Arya. A wicked smile found its way onto his lips. “A man is most curious to hear more of these stories. Perhaps we should discuss more.”

Shireen giggled. “I knew I’d like you. Besides, I can see now Arya’s description of how handsome you are is fairly accurate.”

“I never…but…Seven hells!” Arya shot up out of her seat, wishing she could be anywhere but where she was. Before she could dart by Jaqen, his arm snaked around her and pulled her into his embrace. He opened his legs to pull her against him, her back to his chest again. His arms secured her wriggling form. “Be at peace, Schönes Mädchen.” He purred amused by her attempts to escape his arms. “We only tease.”

“Ugh. I hate both of you.” Arya stated but without malice.

“Hey! Maybe he can help you pick out your dress for Thanksgiving?”

“I’m not doing a fashion show!” Arya growled at her friend, feeling Jaqen’s silent laughter through his chest.

“You’re no fun.” Shireen whined, a distinctly pouty look on her face. “What do you think, Jaqen? Do you want to see her try on sexy dresses?”

“Oh gods…”Arya covered her face with her hands. She was not sure how much more of this she could take and it would only be worse having him meet her family. _Seven hells! What was I thinking?_

“A man lives to serve.”

“Come on, Arya!”

“Fine! Fine!” She looked over her shoulder at a very smug Jaqen, his eyes twinkling. “Blue or black?”

“Oh! Say black!”

“Shireen, shut up!”

Jaqen tried to imagine these blue and black dresses but what his mind immediately conjured set his blood pressure through the roof. He loosened his grip around her waist now that she was not struggling to escape. Her eyes burned into his, awaiting his response. His hand drifted up, thumb rubbing the scar on her cheek tenderly. “A man likes black.” Her eyes held his as she bit her bottom lip, a faint smile. Although Faceless Men were not supposed to have favorites, selflessness being imperative, he always preferred the color black if he had a choice. Now, staring into her lively eyes, he wondered if their warm gray would be his preferred choice of color.

“Well, I’m going to finish getting ready.” Shireen interrupted their moment as her smile widened. “I’ll let you know before I head out; then you two can have the place to yourselves for a couple of hours.” She winked as she floated by to her room.

Blood drained from Arya’s face as she watched her friend walk away. “I’m going to kill her.” She mumbled. “Do you need to leave soon?”

“Yes, a man regrets so.” He was not ready to lose contact with her. Before she could pull away, he placed his hands on her hips, spinning her around to face him. Almost reverently, he placed his forehead on hers, closing his eyes. “Thank you, lovely girl, for today. A man enjoyed his time.”

She sighed, closing her eyes. “You promise? Even if we didn’t do anything fun?”

“A man promises. Truly he did something most pleasing.”

She leaned back slightly, opening her eyes and quirking an eyebrow at him.

His hands on her hips tightened and a seductive smile appeared. “A man held a beautiful woman’s hand…he even tasted her lovely neck. A man had a wonderful time.”

Even though she could feel a blush coloring her cheeks, she lazily dragged her hands from his chest down his torso to his thighs, gripping them. Purposefully, she moved herself closer, further between his thighs and placed her lips next to his ear. “It sounds like you owe me. I didn’t get to taste you.” She flicked his earlobe with her tongue before nibbling it. Underneath her, she could feel Jaqen’s quickened breathing and hands almost painfully gripping her small hips. It felt good to know she could cause him the same distress and sensations that he so frequently bestowed upon her. Finally she released his earlobe but not before caressing his ear with her tongue. Leaning back, an innocent, demure look on her face, she assessed him. His eyes were half-lidded, lips partially opened.

“Schönes Mädchen, you cannot do that to a man.” He pressed his forehead to hers again, hoping to center himself and control the rage of pleasurable sensations coursing through his body. “It is wise your friend is here so this dangerous game you play will have a different outcome.”

“You’re not suggesting anything improper, Herr H’ghar?”

“A man has decided you are not a lovely girl but a wicked child tempting a man.”

“Oh if its temptation you want…” But before Arya could finish her threat, Shireen stepped out of her room, heading towards the bathroom. A small gasp sounded from her followed by the bathroom door shutting. Arya could only imagine how it looked to her friend. His legs open, his hands on her hips, hers on his thighs, their foreheads touching; especially after repeatedly saying they were just friends. _Are we though?_

“A man should go.”

“You sure you can’t stay longer? I’ll keep all my wickedness to myself.”

He chuckled. “Just so. A man has duties.” He released her, standing up to tower over her. _How is she so small yet hold so much power?_

“Do you want me to walk you out?”

“No, a man can find his way out.”

“Can I get my hug?”

He smiled, “of course.” Immediately she stepped into his arms and he pulled her tight. Their embrace lacked the sexual tension that had just bound them. It felt pure and familiar. An embrace of deep companionship. A longing welled up inside of him. Unable to stop himself, he nuzzled her neck, breathing in deeply of her scent- lavender, unadulterated friendship, snow and abundant life.

“I’ll text you about thanksgiving, ok?”

He nodded then slowly, regretfully released her. “Auf Weidersehen, Arya.”

“See you soon, Jaqen.”

He opened the door and walked away, allowing Arya to close and lock it behind him.

She leaned her forehead against the door, wanting to remember his smell, his touch, his taste a moment longer. Finally she turned around just as her friend walked out of the bathroom.

“Some friend you got there…” Shireen winked mischievously.

 

* * *

 

Jaqen walked towards Professor Tywin Lannister’s office on the floor below his. The professor wanted to review the data gathered by Jaqen and Brad before they began writing up the study conducted. Brad made some kind of excuse why he could not get the papers, so Jaqen made the long walk down to the floor below and down the several hallways. As he approached the door, he heard a faint raised voice coming from the professor’s door. Casually Jaqen pulled a set of earbuds out of his pocket and connected it to his phone. To anyone walking by, it appeared he was listening to music as he waited for the professor, an innocent enough activity. The sound coming through the earbuds was not musical beyond the fact of the individual melody of a person’s voice. The voice Jaqen listened to was that of Professor Tywin which was uncharacteristically angered and speaking in Russian. _Must be a contact._ Jaqen adjusted the earbuds and leaned against the wall. The dead man raged about a missed shipment and how the payment would be delayed. He paused before continuing his curt monologue. The professor’s Russian was poor but passable. Having spent almost a year in Rostov, Jaqen’s was far superior and knew his accent was flawless, like all languages he was required to learn in service. A name from the professor’s mouth furthered his interest in the conversation. The Red Snake. Jaqen made note of it to ask his Master about. He was surprised to hear the dead man having this discussion here. Whatever had happened it must have been bad enough to warrant a precarious phone call. Mentally he chastised the professor for having this conversation where any passerby, like himself, could hear and especially in a common language. It was an arrogant move, unusual for the shrewd, calculating man Jaqen came to see him as.

The shuffled footsteps echoed off the brick walls announced the arrival of another. Jaqen looked up to see Professor Tyrion waddling down the white hallway, a large mug in hand.

“Good morning, Jaqen.” The short man took a sip then smacked his lips.

Jaqen inclined his head, taking one of the earbuds out. His mind split so he could continue to hear the dead man’s conversation while engaging his son before him. A distinct smell floated up from the man’s mug and Jaqen raised an eyebrow, a bemused look on his face.

Tyrion chuckled. “Its Irish coffee. I’ve been told repeatedly I must wait until after 2pm to start drinking but no one questions coffee.” He leaned close to the door, a smirk taking over. “Ah, it sounds like my father is talking with one of his colleagues from Moscow. Do you speak Russian?”

“No, a man speaks German, English and French.” Plus many other languages but the short man need not be privy to that.

“The language of love and the language of arguing? Interesting.” Tyrion took another sip, seeming to examine Jaqen thoroughly. He was a clever man and far more observant than he let on with his supposed drunkenness. “It would appear we are both waiting to speak to my father. What do you need of him?”

 “A man was sent to retrieve data worksheets.”

“Ah, right. Well it appears pointless for both of us to stand waiting for him. When I’m done with him, I’ll bring you the worksheets you’re waiting for.”

“Thank you, Professor Lannister.” Jaqen recognized this clearly as a dismissal. He wondered if Tyrion questioned the truthfulness of his inability to understand Russian. _Why does he want to make sure I cannot hear the dead man’s words?_ In all his readings and spying, he has found no implication that Tyrion was involved in his father’s side business. That did not mean though he was ignorant of what his father did.

A short bark of laughter erupted for Tyrion. “Call me that and people will think you’re talking about my father. Please, call me Tyrion. I’ve told you this before.”

“Just so. Thank you, Tyrion.” Jaqen turned on his heel and walked back to his office. The dead man’s conversation ended when he spoke with Tyrion but the phone tap would have recorded it. He was very curious to hear it all. _Who is this Red Snake?_ Luckily Brad was not in the office so Jaqen did not have to explain why he did not have the data and pretend to care. He sat down on the annoyingly squeaking chair, putting his earbuds back in. _Does this affect the mission?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short sneak peek for next week's chapter...Jaqen going to the Stark house for Thanksgiving! 
> 
>  
> 
> Jaqen was getting the distinct impression what they were doing would displease Mrs. Stark with how Arya kept glancing at the door and her having him be quiet in the hallway. “Is a man an accomplice to a girl’s thievery?”  
> “Only if we’re caught. Let’s go.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This is a longer chapter so enjoy!  
> Quick note- I am using Talisa as Robb's wife (I know its show canon) because of Sansa's friend Jeyne Poole being in this chapter also. Honestly its laziness, I did not want to have to continue to differentiate between the two Jeynes (if I used book canon). 
> 
>  
> 
> Also on a fun note-I posted a one-short (may be continued later) with a Gendry/Arya theme. I dislike how in this story I have not been able to touch on how much of a bad-ass Arya is. So if you're interested, its called The Informant. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to all reading this, leaving comments and kudos. This story has received so much love from you all! Have a great weekend! :D

Arya stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, frowning at the façade of herself staring back. She hated getting dressed up. It felt like a lie. A mask of her true feelings and self. She would much rather throw on jeans or leggings, a big hoodie and go play football with the neighbor boys. Her mother demanded that she dress up for the holiday, so here she stood. It felt like all morning she had allowed, and grumbled, as Sansa and Jeyne did her make-up and hair but knew it was only the hour prior. Guests would be arriving soon. Hiding in the bathroom was no longer a viable option. She looked over herself one last time, making sure she had not disturbed anything to cause Sansa to reign hellfire on her. The lacy, black bodycon dress was Shireen’s and molded way more to her body than she would like. The top three inches of the dress covering her chest and back was lace, revealing her pale skin beneath, along with the long sleeves being lace. It was simple and pretty, no extra patterns or designs. Just black and lacey. Anything more and Arya may have been tempted to “accidently” spill wine all over it and be forced to change.  Sansa dabbled a faint shimmer eyeshadow on Arya along with eyeliner. Red lipstick was painted on her full lips. It all weighed heavy to the girl who never wore make-up, but the effects were not…horrible. For once, her hair hung down freely, not in its typical bun. Her straight, mahogany hair brushed her shoulders, its length just past it. Arya took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the ridicule and comments as she stepped out of the bathroom.

Nymeria lay on the floor, outside of the bathroom. She picked her head up when Arya stepped out, wagging for her mistress.

Arya reached down and scratched behind her ear. “I’ve missed you too, girl. Maybe we can sneak away and go down by the water.” Squaring her shoulders, she walked down the stairs to the kitchen, Nymeria following her. _Might as well get the humiliation over with._ Her mother whirled around the kitchen, a cyclone of grace and authority, clearly in one of her many domains. Old Nan, the family housekeeper and live-in nanny, helped out unhurriedly, softly humming one of her many songs she sung to the children as they grew up. The elderly woman moved slowly but her hands were still nimble and eyes sharp to the pranks and dynamics of the many Stark children she adored. Sansa and Jeyne compared something on their phones, sitting at the large dining room table.

“Ta da.” Arya announced with a sigh, stepping into the kitchen, wishing she could run away.

“Look at you! Wearing a real bra and everything!” Sansa teased, her own red hair half-up to draw the eye to her immaculate face and figure in a royal blue fit and flare dress. Arya scowled at her older sister, she would have preferred to wear her usual sports bra but that would have looked comical in her current attire. Even she knew that.

“Sansa, be nice.” Catelyn looked over, her own red hair flowing loosely over her floral wrap dress. Catelyn and Sansa resembled each other in many ways- their perfect lady-like demeanor, beautiful features and red hair. It seemed more like a cloning sometimes than a mother-daughter relationship. “You look lovely, dear. When is your friend arriving?”

“I told him to text me when he parks…on the street, like you asked.”

“Is he cute?” Jeyne asked, a smirk on her painted pink lips as she glanced at Sansa like there was some joke. Her own honey brown hair was pulled up and she wore an emerald green peplum dress with gold jewelry and too much make-up. Arya always thought that her ears and eyes looked too big for her face but decided not to comment on it and earn her mother’s ire.

Yet she could not resist a jab at the girl she distained. “Does it matter? We all know you’ll hook up with Theon, like every time you come.”

“Arya Stark!” Her mother cried, then shook her head as if she did not have time for these childish games. “Take Nymeria outside. Once the guests start arriving, all the dogs have to stay in the basement. That includes Lady, Sansa.” Sansa’s dog, a Pomeranian, lay contently on her dog bed in the living room.

Arya walked by, ignoring the withering look thrown her way by an embarrassed Jeyne.

“Oh Arya! Don’t forget to wear the heels! You’ll not be walking around this house barefoot while guests are here!” Her mother called after her.

She groaned but obeyed, snatching up the pair of small black wedges she had been stumbling around in all morning. Hastily she strapped them on, muttering cruel intentions if she ever met the person who created the idea of heels on women. Before her mother could demand anything else of her, she hurried outside, Nymeria by her side. They walked through the garage door towards the sound of a ball hitting pavement followed by a swoosh. Next to the large three car garage was pavement and a basketball hoop where the guys were killing time before stuffing their faces with food and hiding from Mrs. Stark.

Jon was playing one-on-one with Rickon, well pretending to play to accommodate the boy. Rickon’s slacks were already dirty, looking like he had knelt on the grass and carried the remnants to show it. All the guys were dressed nice- Jon in slacks and a sweater, Gendry and Sandor in slacks and button-down long sleeves, Theon in a suit, and poor young Rickon in now dirty slacks and a sweater that impeded his ability to play. The nine-year-old hated dressing up just about as much as Arya did. All the guys looked very handsome and respectable; Arya could not help but grin as she thought of ways to poke fun at them. Unfortunately she was spotted first before she could open her mouth.

A long wolfish whistle announced her approach by Sandor, who stood leaning against the basketball post, everyone else’s backs towards her. “You clean up nice, wolf girl.”

“Damn, Arya.” Theon slowly scanned her. “Who knew you have a woman’s body after all.”

“Theon!” Jon tossed the basketball at Theon, his annoyance by the comment evident. Theon caught it just before it would have hit him in the chest, smirking, unfazed. Jon looked back at his favorite sister. “You do look nice, Arya.”

“Thanks and you guys look quite the dashing group.” She moved to stand by Gendry, a few feet away from the basketball game going on. “Besides you, Theon, what the hell? You look like you’re going to rob a bank with that old gangster outfit.”

Theon laughed, lazily brushing his black and white pinstripe suit dramatically. “Stop lying to yourself. You know you want me.”

Arya snorted. “I think you’re mistaking me for Jeyne.”

“What are you talking about?” Rickon asked, looking between Theon and Arya confused. His round, boyish face revealed his two dimples as he smiled, accented by the untamable mop of auburn hair on top of his head.

“Nothing.” Jon glared at them from behind Rickon. “Arya, do you want to play?”

“Not if I want to walk later in these shoes.” She gestured to her wedges.

“Sandor! Play with us!” Rickon cried giddily, grabbing Sandor’s arm, trying to drag the behemoth of a man onto the pavement. Sandor huffed, threw the boy quickly over his shoulder and spun around, the sounds of Rickon’s laughter echoing.

“You look beautiful, m’lady.” Gendry softly said, looking at her with a smile. His eyes glittered like he was admiring a masterpiece. “Like a proper little lady.”

“Ugh. Don’t call me that. I feel like one of Sansa’s childhood dolls. This dress is too tight and I swear my feet with be killing me in an hour and I’ll fall flat on my ass soon enough.”

“I promise I’ll catch you if you fall.”

“Yeah right. You’ll sit there with the rest of them and laugh THEN offer to help me up.”

Gendry opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Jon.

“Hey, when is your friend coming, Arya?”

“He should be here soon. I told him to come a little early.”

Rickon looked over, finally having regained his equilibrium after stumbling around for several moments. “Is he your boyfriend? Mom said she thought he was.”

“No. Let’s be clear. He is not my boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

“Why are you blushing?” Theon asked, squinting at her, as he spun the basketball on his pointer finger.  

“I’m not!” At least she hoped so. “You idiots have to be nice to him. If not, I promise I’ll make all your lives miserable until next year, got it?”

Jon came over and put his hands on her shoulders. “Its ok. If you like him, we’ll like him. Stop worrying, Fish.”

“I’m not worried.” Yet her stomach was tying itself into knots and her hands felt clammy at the thought of Jaqen meeting her family. _It’s not a big deal. He’s just a friend coming so he’s not alone during the holiday._  

“You sure he’s not your boyfriend?” Gendry teased, beside her.

“Hey, hey.” Jon scowled at Gendry, having grabbed her wrists so she could not punch Gendry. “Its going to be fine. We’ll add him to the group. Once dinner is done, we’ll sneak away to the basement. You’ll have to make an excuse for both of you to get away.”

Over the years and many holiday events, a tradition began that once dinner was over, Jon and Arya would escape the family time to hide away somewhere until the guests left. As the years went by and more people became included in their group of escapees, the need for rehearsed excuses became apparent. Eventually they all would congregate in the basement to watch a movie or play video games while the adults talked and sipped wine upstairs.

“Ok, mom said the dogs have to go in the basement before guests arrive.”

“Alright, I’ll go walk them by the lake quick.” Jon whistled for his dog. Ghost was a Great Pyrenees, white and fluffy. He called for Nymeria to follow him before starting down the path to the lake behind the house, a black dog on one side and white on the other.

 

***********

 

Jaqen parked on the street, text Arya and began walking up to the house. He had not been sure what to expect but found himself surprised. The gated community her house resided in was a surprise; but walking up the curved driveway he guessed the house was at least worth several million dollars. It was a massive, picturesque house with beautiful landscaping, elegant architecture and stone pillars in the expansive entryway. The house had two floors with a balcony extending from one of the rooms. A large three car garage jutted off the side of the house with a couple cars sitting parked in the front already. With the brilliantly colorful foliage, the scene before him appeared as if it came out of a home magazine.

“Jaqen!” Arya appeared from behind the garage.

Only through sheer Facelessness did his face not portray his shock. His heart momentarily stopped beating. His mind took in the exquisite lady who approached him. There was an unconscious grace in her movements that was mesmerizing. Her black dress silhouetted her curves, emphasizing what grace and genes had given her. Her shapely legs were emphasized by the small heels and the dress only reaching mid-thigh. _Sie ist atemberaubend Schön_. Beside her walked a huge black dog, he guessed was the same one in the picture on his kitchen counter.

“Schönes Mädchen,” he said once they stood in front of one another. Gently he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

She smiled, unsure what to do and unable to suppress the butterflies in her stomach. “You look quite…handsome. You did not have to dress up quite so much.” Handsome was not a strong enough word to describe him but her muddled brain could not process a better adjective. He wore a charcoal gray suit with a black dress shirt underneath it. The simplicity screamed sophistication and his charming smile was enough to knock anyone off their feet. “Hey, this is Nymeria. Say hi, girl.”

Jaqen held his hand out for the Newfoundland to sniff before the dog allowed him to pet her head.

“She likes you. Can I get my hug now?”

“Of course,” he opened his arms and Arya stepped into them, wrapping her own around his back.

She breathed in his scent, the side of her head against his chest. “Thank you for coming. I bet traffic was awful getting out of the cities.”

He brushed his lips on the top of her head. “A man is honored to see a girl’s family home, besides a lovely girl looks ravishing. That is worth a man’s time.”

She leaned back. “Well, I hope so. You picked the dress out. Blue or black, remember?”

He did, and was very pleased he chose black. “Just so. You also have your hair down. A man has never seen it so.” He ran his hand through it affectionately, as if trying to memorize the feeling of it flowing through his fingers.

“Really? I don’t really like it, that’s why its up all the time. I’ve been thinking about cutting it.”

“Nein, Schönes Mädchen.” He ran his hand through it again as if to emphasize. “It is most lovely. A man would lament its loss.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, I won’t do anything drastic…yet.” If he was touching her hair, she felt she was allowed the same. Reaching up, she slipped his forelock between her pointer and middle fingers. It was as silky smooth as her memory recalled.

With his hand, he grabbed hers after it wove through his hair then furrowed his brows at her. “A girl’s hands are cold.”

“Well it’s in the fifties out here but I’m fine. I’m Minnesotan. We don’t get cold until it’s in the negatives.”

He scowled as he released her and quickly took his suit jacket off, draping it over her.

“Jaqen! I’m fine!” She whined, trying to give it back.

 “A girl may return a man’s jacket once inside.”

She pouted then decided it was not a battle worth fighting, although she considered it just because she felt like being stubborn. They would have to go inside soon enough. “Fine, come on. Let’s introduce you to the guys. Come, Nymeria!” They walked around the garage, Nymeria padding alongside Arya.

Jaqen thought he caught a glimpse of red and brown hair in one of the front windows but they walked by before he could confirm it. As they walked to the side, Jaqen noticed the four guys and boy centered around a basketball hoop. The one with the pinstripe suit was attempting to take a shot which rebounded and bounced off to the side. The boy flew over to catch it. He recognized two of the guys, the one having been in the library recently… _Gendry, was it? The jealous one._

“Hey guys, this is Jaqen.”

The guys stared at the two of them for a long moment before they recovered from their shock. The one that looked similar to Arya, dark hair and gray eyes approached Jaqen, hand extended. “Hi, I’m Jon.”

Jaqen shook his hand; a silent acknowledgment of the good, firm handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, thanks for coming.” Jon crossed his arms, examining the man before him. “So how do you two know each other?”

 “He’s a TA for one of my classes.” Arya answered swiftly, watching Jon’s reaction. She could almost see the raised eyebrow asking ‘really?’; especially since it was impossible to not notice she was wearing his jacket  when several minutes before she had been fighting them about her not being too cold in only her dress. Her eyes bore into his, daring him to make a comment. _Oh, I can make your days miserable, big brother, try me._ He gave Jaqen a quick once-over again before stepping to the side. It was hard not to gloat so she settled for a subtle nod in his direction resulting in him rolling his eyes.

“Arya! Is that your boyfriend?” Rickon asked loudly, eyes openly appraising the newcomer.

“Ugh, we already had this discussion. No.” She looked at Jaqen. “That’s the baby of the family, Rickon. Don’t believe most of the things that come out of his mouth. Over there is Sandor, the idiot in the striped suit is Theon and you remember Gendry, right?”

Jaqen inclined his head in acknowledgment of Gendry, wondering how their interactions would be this time. Apparently less cordial for the blue-eyed boy glared daggers at him, standing with his hands in fists by his sides as if preparing for a fight. Jaqen made eye contact and held it briefly, before Arya drew his attention away. _I’ll have to keep an eye on him tonight…I wonder if he would spit in my drink._  The boy appeared more inclined to physical violence in the moment than a passive aggressive move.  

“Oh, that’s Ghost over there. He’s Jon’s dog.”

“A girl’s family has an interest in large dogs.”

“Well, not all of us. Bran has a yellow lab but he’s trained to help with him being in a wheelchair. Sansa’s dog is a Pomeranian so very little. Robb used to have a collie mix named Gray Wind but he died.”

“Why do you talk funny?” Rickon came over to stand near them, continuing his assessment.

“Rickon!” Both Jon and Arya exclaimed but the boy paid them no heed.

“A man is from another country. English is not his mother language.”

“Oh, where did you come from?” Rickon took a step closer, eyes wide in wonder.

“Germany.”

“Ohhhhh…..is that near Australia? We’re learning about Australia in school!”

Jaqen could see Arya rolling her eyes but he just smiled at the inquisitive boy. “A boy must be most knowledgeable about Australia.”

“Rickon, can you take the dogs to the basement? You’re the fastest one here and I think dinner is starting soon.” Arya spoke up before the floodgate of questions burst forth. Better to dam it now then try and staunch the flow later.

“Come on, Ghost! Come on, Nymeria!” Rickon took off, the dogs slowly following, not quite sharing the young boy’s enthusiasm.

“Did you see if Baelish’s car is here?” Jon asked, glancing at Arya.

“Yeah, it looks like mom’s colleagues are here too.”

“Alright, let’s go in.” Jon led the procession into the house. Theon followed Jon carrying the basketball, smirking at Arya with Gendry trudging by his side. Sandor gave her a quick wink as he walked by. Arya and Jaqen brought up the rear. Once inside she slipped out of Jaqen’s jacket and hung it up in the closet. Her nervousness must have been palatable for Jaqen ran a hand down her arm and squeezed her hand once they were alone. She smiled and squeezed back. _Its fine. Jon’s brooding would have increased by now if he did not like him. Theon is an idiot. I’ll get back at Sandor. Gods only know what Gendry’s problem is._

“Good, everyone is in.” Catelyn Stark was saying to those in the kitchen and open area. Arya and Jaqen hung back in the hallway, listening, standing behind Sandor. “The food is ready, help yourselves, there is more than enough. Kids, you will eat at the table in the living room. Everyone else can eat in the dining room. Thank you all for coming to celebrate Thanksgiving with is. Enjoy!”

With that, the hustle for food began. Arya grabbed Jaqen’s hand and pulled him slightly into the kitchen where she knew her mother would be standing overseeing like a general over her troops. “Mom.” Arya came up next to her. “This is my friend, Jaqen.”

Her mother’s widened eyes and tilted head were indication enough that Jaqen was not what she expected to see. To her credit, she recovered quickly and shook hands with him. “Jaqen, a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming. How do you two know each other?”

“He’s a teaching assistant for my Research Methods class.” Arya said.

“Oh, just through class?”

“A man is also teaching Arya how to dance.”

Arya’s face turned crimson as she gasped then elbowed Jaqen in the ribs. She wondered if her elbow would bruise, he felt rock hard.

“Really? Dear, you should have told me! That’s delightful to hear. Its about time you learned.” Catelyn smiled brilliantly at Arya, clearly thinking of ways her daughter’s dancing skills would be of use. “I’ve been trying for years to make a lady out of her instead of a bedraggled child but…”

“MOM!”

“Oh dear, its true, don’t deny it. Gods, you are a wild one. You, sir, must have the patience of the gods themselves to be teaching her.”

A smug smile lit up Jaqen’s face as he noticed Arya’s red cheeks from the corner of his eye. “Perhaps she just needed the right teacher and encouragement.”

“Truly, well don’t let me keep you.” Catelyn grinned, bemused, at Jaqen. “Why don’t you two grab a plate. I’ll talk to you more while everyone is sitting.”

The two moved away to join the line serving themselves food. The expansive kitchen island had been turned into a buffet with all sorts of foods on it. A huge platter of turkey sat festively in the center. There were four kinds of potato dishes, a green been hot dish, cranberry sauce, two different kinds of stuffing, roasted fall vegetables, warm, buttery rolls, gravy and different options of fruit. Let it never be said, Catelyn Stark did not know how to feed a crowd well.

Arya scowled at Jaqen, whom just smirked, infuriating her more. Her whisper contained all the fury she could muster in the moment. “You know she’ll think I can dance now. A lifetime of telling her I can’t and saving myself from being forced to dance with strangers is not ruined because of you.”

He chuckled. “A man said teaching a girl, he never said the girl is proficient. A man thinks it will take many more Friday nights until a girl becomes…adequate for public entertainment.”

“Humph. I would punch you but I don’t want to drop my plate. Here, you want some of this.” She scooped some of the stuffing onto his plate. “Oh, you have to try this. Its sweet potatoes with brown sugar. If you don’t like it, that’s fine but you gotta try it.”

He watched amused as she loaded both of their plates up. At the end she placed two rolls on his plate and one on hers. “A man only needs one.” He tried to put one back but she smacked his hand away.

“I know. That one is for me. My mom would scold me if I take two rolls so I’m stealing one of yours.”

He followed her to a long table set up in the living room. Everything looked perfectly decorated with fall leaves, small pumpkins, gourds and candles about. It looked truly festive and magical. The table had a red tablecloth under the decorations, already set with silverware and cloth napkins. They took a seat towards one end, a few others already claiming their spots.

Arya sat with Jaqen to her right and curiously noted Jon took the seat on Jaqen’s other side. _I wonder if he is going to interrogate him. That would be the protective older brother thing to do._ Gendry sat down on her left, silently. Sansa and Jeyne placed themselves across from her, both attempting to subtly get eyefuls of Jaqen. Arya wondered how much trouble she would get in if she kicked Sansa underneath the table. Before she could employ her calculated action, someone tugged on her hair slightly as they walked by her. She turned in her seat, knowing who it was and smiled.

“Whose your friend?” Robb asked, not unkindly, standing behind Gendry. His hair was full and thick like Rickon’s but better kept, a shapely beard covered his jaw. Although he had their mother’s coloring and eyes, hints of their father shone through with the brooding eyes and reserved smile. It seemed as Robb replaced their father in the family business, more quirks appeared linking the two.

“This is Jaqen H’ghar. Jaqen, this is Robb, he is the oldest Stark kid.”

The two men shook hands and pleasantries before Robb took a seat next to his wife at the other end of the table. Arya pointed out to Jaqen the rest of those unknown to him around the table. Talisa, the quiet and passionate, dark-skinned beauty sitting next to her husband. Jeyne sat on Talisa’s other side with Sansa next to her. Bran sat at the head of the table on the other end, texting. Rickon pestered Robb about the business and when he could drive one of the snow plows again. The neighbor’s son, Mycah, sat next to Gendry. Sandor sat at the head of the table closest to them, allowing his long legs to stretch out to the side. Arya though she caught him glancing at Sansa more than necessary, confirming her suspicion. Theon sat next to Sandor and across from Jon, ranting about how he had to take his motorcycle to the shop again to get fixed.  

As promised, Catelyn made her rounds, stopping to make small talk and check on her children and their guests before she allowed herself to sit down and partake, always the perfect hostess. Making her way down the line, she stopped behind Sansa, asking her and Jeyne about their current semester in Chicago. The two had just drove up late the prior night and all morning had been spent with preparing for the festivities. Finally the woman’s discerning gaze came upon Jaqen and Arya.

“Jaqen, if I may be so bold, but my daughter mentioned you were a foreign student. May I inquire as to where?”

“A man is from Germany.”

“Are you going to school there?”

“He’s a PhD student, mom.” Arya interrupted then looked down when her mother’s discourteous gaze showed her disdain for the unladylike interruption. It made her uncomfortable as the conversations around the table paused to listen to Jaqen’s answer.

“A man is here to study under Professor Lannister for the year and contribute to his research study.”

“Oh? What is the study about?”

“We are comparing the different regions of the brains of inmates to see what regions become active and evaluating the hormones released while they watch a variety of video clips comprised to elicit an emotional reaction. The concept is to determine if these men’s emotional capabilities and emotional intelligence is affected by their time while incarcerated or if many arrive already hindered. It’s a longitudinal study in which Professor Lannister has been working on for many years.”

“Oh my.” Catelyn placed a delicate hand on her chest. “That sounds most fascinating. What an exciting study to be apart of. Well thank you for coming and celebrating Thanksgiving with us.”

“It is a man’s pleasure. He has never celebrated this holiday before.”

“You’ve never celebrated Thanksgiving before?” Sansa asked, peeking out from under her lashes.

“They didn’t have pilgrims and Native American Indians, stupid. Its an American holiday.” Arya flatly stated, irked by her sister’s attention. It did not help that Jaqen was even more charming than his usual self, if that was even possible. His deep, honeyed voice seemed to hypnotize whomever he was speaking with. His fleeting looks and captivating smile made her wonder if he was really trying to make a good impression with her family. If that was the case, she considered forgiving him for being so darn beguiling. _You’re just friends, why does it matter? Why can’t they just leave him alone, he is here for me!_

“Arya!” Catelyn reprimanded her unsophisticated daughter.

Jaqen smiled at the red-heads pleasantly. “Just so.”

“Well all the more reason we are honored for you to join us. If you’ll excuse me.” Catelyn made her way back to the dining room to play hostess with her true guests.

Jon began a conversation with Jaqen asking specifics of the research study and what he thought of the University so far. Jaqen likewise asked about the engineering program and Jon’s plans for graduation. Pretty quickly a lively discussion of the current season of the Minnesota Vikings swallowed those at the table with much finger pointing, animated voices and frustrated sighs. Jaqen listened to how emotionally invested some of them clearly were in the wins and losses of Minnesota’s American football team. He studied their interactions, the micro-expressions and the tension between particular siblings. Most of these people at this table had influenced his lovely girl in some way and he found it fascinating to watch. Her guard was slowly coming down as she complained about a certain running-back on the team to Robb and teased Mycah about how this year the Vikings would beat the Green Bay Packers’ butt, apparently Mycah’s preferred team. It was delightful to witness. Although he understood minimally of what they spoke of, American football never having an appeal to him, his eyes were drawn to Arya’s exaggerated expressions and vocal inflections while she debated the better quarterback with Theon. Across the table, Jaqen sensed the blushed gazes sent his way by the red-head, _Sansa_ , and her friend, _Jeyne._ The two listened to the conversation some but mostly kept a running dialogue with Robb’s wife next to them. Jeyne spoke up, asking his opinion on a matter but her attempt to draw his attention was rapidly drown out by the heated voices of those around them. The table conversations he was used to at the House of Black and White were minimally charged compared to this one. There, raised voices and overt displays of emotions were frowned upon. Most meals were eaten in silence or with quieted voices discussing the best ways to kill someone in certain situations, how to best hide a body or the easiest ways to change one’s identity for a mission…the normal topics of an Faceless Man.

To her word, after Arya cleared most of the food from her plate, she reached over and stole one of the two rolls off Jaqen’s plate. He raised an eyebrow as she impishly grinned, taking a bite. He smiled and shook his head, noting no one around them seemed surprised by her stealing food from his plate. Beside her, Gendry made a comment to Theon as he stretched his arms, leaning back in his chair. His hand landed on Arya’s back as he directed a comment to her but Jaqen witnessed the dirty look thrown his way hastily. Facelessness taught Jaqen to restrain and hide his emotions and expressions. His face and posture remained relaxed while internally he bristled at the dark-haired boy’s intimacy towards Arya. Jaqen had caught Gendry’s lingering gaze a couple times, always subtle. She may have claimed Gendry was a friend but the boy’s looks and movement told Jaqen a different story of his true feelings. _You are No One. You need no one._ He suppressed the rising emotion easily, naming it before it gained leverage in his mind- jealousy.

“Jaqen, can I get you a beer?” Jon interrupted Jaqen’s thoughts as he stood up.

“Oh, I thought I saw some Guinness in the outside fridge. He might like that better than the crap you drink.” Arya answered for him, watching her favorite brother. “Grab me something too.”

“Gods, you’re demanding…and you’re still underage, Fish.” Jon teased as he walked away towards the kitchen.

Jaqen looked at her. “Fish?”

“I’ve always loved water and swimming. Jon used to tell me I must have been a fish in a past life. Sometimes he’d pin me down and claim he was checking behind my ears for gills while he tickled me. He’s a horrible brother.” Her smile at the memory contradicted her last statement.

Before Arya could ask Jaqen about the food, Gendry leaned over and whispered, his lips next to her ear. “You grab the pies, I’ll grab the plates.”

“Don’t forget the forks too. Last year we almost got caught because of you.” She softly hissed, keeping her eyes on her plate.

“You told me you were getting them.”

She elbowed him in the ribs, receiving a slight satisfying groan. “No, I didn’t, stupid bull.” She glanced around seeing Theon swiftly making his escape. “You go first.”

“As m’lady commands.” Gendry rose, just barely missing her fist as she tried to punch him. He laughed as he wandered around her.

An ignorant eye saw those at the table vanishing to return their plates to the kitchen, excusing themselves to visit the bathroom and stepping away to call someone back. The truth was much more elaborate and planned over the years of practice. One or two at a time would rise and make their way out. A few minutes later the next grouping would disappear. The goal was for all to escape before Catelyn Stark’s watchful gaze found them again, forcing them to converse and entertain her guests. Sansa and Jeyne slipped away to Sansa’s room, claiming the necessity to video chat a friend. Bran silently wheeled away, probably off to read some kind of encyclopedia. The hardest to wrangle was Rickon, for he did not always understand the art of subtly. This year Robb had lost the silent ‘rock-paper-scissors’ game amongst the Stark children and was now responsible for Rickon temporarily. When only Robb, Talisa, Rickon and Mycah sat at the table, Arya felt it was safe to make her move.

She gave Robb a quick two-finger salute then stood up. “Hey, Jaqen, let’s go check on Nymeria.”

“Don’t cause too much mischief. It was nice to meet you, Jaqen.” Robb smiled knowingly, throwing an arm around his wife.

“The pleasure is mine.” Jaqen inclined his head then quickly followed Arya as she led them to the kitchen. Before they entered, she mouthed, ‘stay here’, took his plate and disappeared around the corner. He could hear Catelyn’s polite laugh amongst the soft conversation, so very muted compared to the lively conversation from the table he had been at. Arya rapidly appeared, silent as darkness, a smirk teasing her lips. She held a finger to her lips then grabbed his hand and led him down another hallway. They passed a large closet and what looked like it used to be a study but had been turned into a bedroom. The doors were shut but instrumental music whispered from underneath the doors. Along the walls were family photos, some posed and some candid, all beautifully arranged with matching frames. Jaqen scanned them as he walked by, an overwhelming sense of love and family radiated from the pictures. It was in the smiles, the alive eyes, the physical closeness of those sharing the space in a photo. He felt almost intrusive looking at them. He brushed the feeling away. Some learned to live without a family, it was easier.

At the end of the hallway, Arya opened the door and led them the few steps down into the garage. Next to the stairs was a large fridge and freezer. She released his hand and opened the fridge, the prizes awaiting inside.

“Hold this.” She thrust a plastic box into his hands then continued her search in the fridge.

“Is a lovely girl still hungry?” All the food Arya had put on his plate was settling and the desire to nap was steadily increasing.

She gave him a quick wink before sticking her head back in the fridge. “I’m always hungry, plus its Thanksgiving.”

“What has the holiday to do with a girl’s appetite?” He glanced at the label on the box he was holding-apple pie.

“Oh, where it is? Jon said…here it is! Hold this too!” She placed another box on top of the one Jaqen was holding. “Its an American tradition to be gluttonous on Thanksgiving. You’re supposed to eat until you feel like you could puke.” She placed one more box on Jaqen’s stack before closing the fridge, balancing two boxes of her own.

Jaqen was getting the distinct impression what they were doing would displease Mrs. Stark with how Arya kept glancing at the door and her having him be quiet in the hallway. “Is a man an accomplice to a girl’s thievery?”

“Only if we’re caught. Let’s go.” Silently she led them out of the garage, back down the hallway and towards the opposite side of the house. Descending the stairs to the basement, she mentally checked off the boxes they held- a pumpkin pie for Sandor, an apple pie, French silk pie, chocolate chip cookies and fudge brownies. Earlier in the day, when her mom was getting ready and Old Nan was distracted by Rickon; Jon, Gendry and she stole into the kitchen and removed the said items for their own personal consumption later. This time they made sure to rearrange a few things so hopefully her mom would not notice until she was serving dessert to her guests and it would be too late. She would rather not have a reoccurrence of what happened two years ago.

“Took you long enough, damn, I thought we’d find you two…”

“Shut up, Theon!” Arya retorted, not wanting to hear whatever was going through his head. She placed the two boxes she carried on the mahogany table against a back wall and turned to relieve Jaqen of his. Plates and forks were already waiting next to the microwave. “Do you want any of this?”

Jaqen shook his head, glancing around him. The basement was expansive with two hallways jutting off in opposite directions. There were four couches, three facing a massive flat-screen TV mounted on a wall. There was a bit of exercise equipment and an antique looking desk. Near the fourth couch was a pool table. On the walls were some more photos, along with a mounted bass, duck and an impressive pair of antlers, most likely from a deer.

“Hey, Nymeria.” Arya greeted the large, black dog, coming to her side. “Why don’t you show Jaqen our couch, huh?” The dog meandered away, Arya smiled lovingly at her. “Jaqen, go take a seat on that blue couch over there. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“As you wish.” He quietly said, before moving away to the desired couch.

“Hey, your Guinness is on the coffee table.” Jon called over, lounging on a couch already, a Corona in his hand.

Jaqen thanked him as he swooped it up and planted himself on the blue couch, the black wolf laying in front of it. It was a microfiber three seater couch, facing the room, the TV adjacent to it.

“Did you get me something, Jon?” Arya asked, scooping up a plate of desserts for herself before the vultures descended. Sandor came up beside her and grabbed the whole pumpkin pie and a fork before retreating back to the couch he had been sitting on.

“You’re still underage last time I checked.”

“Hasn’t stopped me before…since when do you care?”

Jon chuckled, taking a sip of his Corona. Arya huffed and playfully swatted the back of his head as she walked by him. Theon and Gendry served themselves as Arya took a seat next to Jaqen.

“You have to try the pie, at least.” She kicked her heels off, carefully holding her plate.  “You have to get all the American experiences possible.”

Jaqen looked down at her, bemused, before rolling his eyes in surrender.

Footfalls sounded on the stairs to the surprise and impending concern of all. Luckily, it was just Sansa and Jeyne.

“What are you two doing down here?” Arya snapped. They never came down to join, always choosing to stay in Sansa’s room and do girly things or call their stupid boyfriends.

“We wanted to see what movie you’re watching.” Sansa replied, giving her sister a quick dark look. Arya guessed there was another reason and she sat next to him.

“The new Jumanji movie.” Jon stated, grabbing a remote. Ghost lay on the floor, head on his master’s feet.

Jeyne squealed. “Oh! With Dwayne Johnson? I’m down!” They moved to the couch that Sandor sat. Sansa gave him a coy smile as she sat between Sandor and Jeyne. Sandor looked like he lost the ability to think and speak momentarily, mouth partially open as they sat down, the pie forgotten in his lap.

“Is Mycah coming?” Arya asked, reaching for the fleece blanket on the back of the couch.

“No, he and his dad headed back already. Robb and Talisa are on a walk with Rickon, taking him to the park.” Sansa answered, running her fingers through her hair prettily.

“Alright, everyone ready?” Jon started the movie, getting up to kill the lights. The room was plunged into semi-darkness. The only light coming from the TV and a small lamp on the mahogany table with the desserts. 

Arya saw the movie when it was in theaters but looked forward to watching it again. A soft whine distracted her and she sighed. “Come on, girl.” Arya scooted closer to Jaqen, their thighs touching now. Nymeria jumped up onto the couch, settling beside her mistress, head in her lap. The shifting continued while Arya twisted slightly to angle her body towards the TV, Jaqen put his arm around her lower back and pulled her closer to him. Self-conscious of their proximity, she shifted the fleece blanket to partially cover his lap also, but was not able to move much more once Nymeria resettled her head on Arya’s lap. The heat from his body warmed her back as she leaned against his side. A very different kind of heat flooded her as she felt his hand on the outside of her upper thigh and her other hip partially in his lap.

“Are you comfortable?” She murmured, tipping her head back onto his shoulder. He faintly brushed his lips over her hair next to her temple. The heat in her gut further inflamed. “Well say something if I need to move. Now try this before I eat it all.” She managed to get a small bite of the apple pie on her fork and carefully bring it to his mouth.

He opened his mouth, allowing her to feed him. A drop of the filling slipped off the fork and onto his chin. Before he could get to it, Arya pulled the fork out of his mouth and wiped it off with her finger. He swallowed the bite quickly which was surprisingly good. _Perhaps apple pie is a new pleasure food to remember._ Quick as lightening, he grabbed her hand and placed her finger in his mouth, licking the filling off. The pie filling was sweet but the timid gasp that slipped from her lips was even more so. He held it there a moment longer, tasting it, tasting her, his tongue tracing her finger. Oh so slowly, he withdrew it, gazing into her fathomless dark eyes, and kissed the tip of it before releasing her hand. He would have loved to tease her more but he was aware of the others in the room, particularly the dark-haired boy, Gendry, who kept glancing over from his spot on the floor.

Arya leaned against Jaqen, turning her gaze towards the TV but her focus was wildly distracted. Absent-mindedly she ran her wet finger over her lips, her mind still entranced by what it felt like. There had been something in his action. A hint, a promise, a tease of what his mouth, his tongue could do to her. Her mind had gone blank when he took her finger. _Gods, how could that simple action feel so good?_ Every movement, every sensation felt heightened in the semi-darkness, pressed against him. She took a bite of the pie herself, hoping to distract from the very distracting man beside her.

“The pie tastes delicious, perhaps a man can have another bite?” He purred softly into her ear, causing goosebumps.

Her breathing felt erratic but somehow she managed to keep her voice steady. “I only promised you a bite, if you want more you gotta get it yourself.”

He chuckled softly but withdrew to rest his head on the back of the couch. She was temptation, especially with the form fitting dress she wore and how close their bodies were. He rubbed his thumb on her thigh, feeling where the dress ended and her soft, pale skin began under the blanket. The movie distracted his mind somewhat. He chuckled at the appropriate moments and allowed himself to be drawn into the story.

Not much later, the phone in his pocket began to vibrate. _Who would call now?_ He murmured an apology to Arya and removed himself from the couch. A split second decision had him walking down the hallway to the left instead of up the stairs. The darkness encased him, shielding him from the eyes of those watching the movie. His eyes adjusted quickly, even though there was nothing to cause him to stumble. Darkness and the assassin were old friends, a bond formed during primitive years.

“Ja?” He asked, keeping his voice in a hushed tone.

“The plan had been changed.” His Master spoke in German which Jaqen found odd but obediently did not question his motives. “You will return to the House during the winter break. Plans will be finalized for the gift. A flight first to Berlin then to London. Jaqen H’ghar will return to Berlin and leave Berlin after the break.”

“Ein Mann versteht.”

“Valar Morghulis.”

“Valar Dohaeris.”

Click.

Hiding in the darkness, his thoughts whirled about and settled like bats in a cave. This news came unexpectedly. He planned to stay during the University’s “Christmas” break and study the dead man more. _Why does my Master need me back? What has changed?_ He put his phone away then ran his hand through his hair as if the act could dislodge the confusing thoughts. It did no good to think about it now. Silently, he slipped back into the main basement room and returned to his seat. Arya and he resumed their prior spots, his arm behind her, his hand on her thigh. Immediately he noticed where her dress line had been was further up her thighs, allowing him more access to her soft skin. _Did she do this on purpose?_ A small thrill shook him at the implication.

Arya tipped her head back, bringing her lips close to his ear. “Everything ok?” As the movie had gone on, she felt him slowly relaxing. It was not just his posture but his steady breathing, the small sounds of amusement, his thumb delicately rubbing her. It was as if her body was sinking into his…their bodies morphing into one. Now, after the call, that absolute relaxed state was diminished. He acted relaxed but a tension ran through him that felt like it kept him on a knife’s edge. In a moment he could spring into action. She wondered who called and what they said.

“It can wait, Schönes Mädchen.” He purred after pressing his lips quickly to her temple. To his surprise, she reached over, snatched his hand above the blanket and dove their hands under the waves of plaid on their lap. Since it was both of their right hands, he enclosed his hand over her small one. They settled back, watching the movie. He could not help but wonder what his time away would mean in regards to Arya. The Faceless side of him scoffed, reminding him he had grown too fond of her, to attached to her. She was a liability. She was weakness. She endangered the mission. _The mission is absolute._ It would be wisest for him to escape her siren’s call. Away from her he could regain his sense of No One. Then he would return and never see her again, be done with this…thing between them. She had no part in his life. She was nothing.

The part of him that was steadily growing, becoming with each touch of hers, each smile, each captivating look, the name Jaqen slipping off her tongue like honey; that part of him wanted to stay. To not leave his lovely girl’s side and continue to be in rapture of her being. While he was gone, would her attention abandon him and move to another? Would she finally come to her senses and reject him, see him for who he really was-the darkness that he abided in and consumed him? The Faceless part of him hoped she did. The newly formed Jaqen part lamented at the thoughts. _How did she become so important? When did she begin to consume me? Why do I want to be more…for her? What dangerous game are we playing?_ He tightened his hold on her, like a child hugging his stuffed animal to frighten the monsters away. As children quickly discover, the act does not save them nor frighten the monsters away. If anything the monsters laugh before sinking their teeth of fear into the naïve child. Jaqen knew he could not keep her, that she was not his to hold and cherish for the monsters do come, from the darkness they emerge. For he was one of them.

 

**********

 

The movie ended and life resumed amongst those in the basement like waking from a trance. Jon jumped up and turned the overhead lights on. Arya blinked at the blinding light, her eyes fighting to adjust to it. She sat up from leaning against Jaqen, squeezing the bridge of her nose. He squeezed her hand under the blanket before stretching his arms over his head casually. A huff from the other side demanded her attention. Arya rubbed Nymeria’s head, who gazed back knowingly. She huffed again then jumped onto the floor.

“Fine, fine. You win.” Arya muttered then called out. “I’ll take the dogs out quick.” She tossed the blanket over Nymeria’s head who squirmed to get it off. A small laugh filtered from her mouth as she watched her beloved dog. It always amazed her how much she could miss those big eyes, wagging tail and slobbery tongue while she was away. She stood up, adjusting her dress quickly as she noted how high the dress had ridden up on her.

“A man will walk out with you. He must bid his farewell.”

“So soon? We’re probably going to watch another movie.”

He looked at her, straight-faced. “Is this another American tradition?”

“If I say yes will you stay?”

“No…some of us have duties.”

“Uh huh. You’re just too old and need your beauty rest.” She laughed, stepping around him and calling the dogs.

“Oh Jaqen, are you leaving?” Jeyne looked up from her phone, drawing everyone’s eyes to Arya and Jaqen.

“A man has duties early in the morning.”

“That’s too bad.” Jeyne puffed her chest out slightly and fluttered her eyelashes. “It was nice to meet you.”

Arya had the insatiable urge to claw the girl’s eyes out. _How dare she! Why does it matter, he came here for you? But…how dare she!_ A few ways she could get back at the wanton girl crossed her mind. The others said their good-byes to Jaqen then the two of them ascended the stairs, the dogs leading the way. She could hear her mother’s voice and the strident, silky voice of Peytr Baelish. The other guests must have all left and those two were cleaning up. The thought of seeing his penetrating, deceitful eyes and that creepy half-smile caused her to shudder and move faster towards the garage. No one besides their mom liked him. Arya wished he would crawl in a hole and die and leave her family alone.

She grabbed Jaqen’s suit jacket from the closet where she hung it earlier. “Did you have a good time? I know my family can be a lot but I thought you held your own.”

“Your family is…charming. A man had a good American Thanksgiving holiday.” He took the extended jacket and followed her outside. The temperature had dropped significantly during their time inside. He heard on the weather they were expected to receive their first snowfall tonight.

“Do you want me to walk with you to your car? I would hate for you to get lost between here and the street?” She teased, watching him through the moonlight and outdoor lights. The shadows made his cheekbones sharper, his nose more narrow but even then, it did not diminish his handsomeness. _Gods, he’s perfect._ He smiled at her, his forelock obscuring one side of his face. Her heart began to beat like a war drum.

“A man will somehow find his way, a most lovely girl should return inside before she freezes, especially with no shoes on.”

“One of the seven hells will have to freeze over before I put those damn heels back on. Stupid things. Yes, yes, I’m going back in once the dogs are done.” 

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her for a final hug. The feel of her in his arms and hers around him, it momentarily sated the deep longing that only arose within her presence. It brought peace. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Ein Mädchen hat mehr Sinn als Mut.”

“Are you insulting me in German again?” She tipped her face up to see his.

“Nein. A man quivers in fear of Arya Stark’s wrath.”

“Damn right, if you know what’s good for you.” Stepping onto her toes, she tried to press her forehead against his but failed due to their height difference. Jaqen smirked but obliged her, tipping is head down so their foreheads could touch. “Thank you for coming today.” She said sincerely. “I had a wonderful time.”

“As did a man. Thank you, lovely Arya.”

They held that pose for several long moments, breathing in each other’s scent and life force. That magnetized feeling which held them while visiting the Mall of America returned with a vengeance. A sharing of touch, of almost breath, of soundless joy and peace passed between them. Neither wanted to leave the embrace and return to reality for how could it compare to this moment? A gust of wind blew from off the lake, the cold air wrapping tighter around them.

Arya hissed softly as the cold hit her bare legs. _Stupid, stupid wind._

Jaqen grinned, releasing her from the warmth of his arms and chest. “Go inside.”

“I’ll go when I’m ready, Herr H’ghar. Text me when…when you get to your apartment.”

“As you wish.” He stepped back giving an over-the-top bow.

“Get out of here.” She rolled her eyes.

“Gute Nacht, Schönes Mädchen.”

“Good night, Jaqen.”

She watched him walk up the driveway to the street, waited until she saw his headlights turn on and his car start before calling the dogs back inside. Her legs tingled from the cold air against her skin, her feet frozen from standing on the pavement. She found herself smiling and chastised herself. _Its just a hug, stop acting like a love-sick child._ Quietly as she could, she raced the dogs back to the basement. The guys were still sprawled about, trying to pick out another movie. All Arya wanted to do was snuggle down into the couch with the fleece blanket and warm up…and wait for Jaqen’s text. Sansa and Jeyne ganged up on her at the bottom of the stairs before she could make her escape.

“Gods, Arya, where did you find him? He’s sooooo sexy.” Jeyne pretended to swoon, making Sansa giggle. “That voice, ah, gets me hot and bothered.”

“Gross.” Arya muttered, trying to walk by them.

Sansa grabbed her arm. “Seriously, though, you guys are just friends?”

“Yes, does it matter? I don’t need to constantly have a boyfriend like some people.” It was a low blow but Arya was getting sick of defending their friendship to herself and others.

“I don’t know how your good-byes went but your greeting was pretty intimate…you were in his arms for a while…” Jeyne ignored Arya, laughing at her implication for what their good-byes entailed. “Oh! Are you a lesbian? That would explain a lot.”

Arya rolled her eyes and walked over to the blue couch, settling herself in. _I should have guessed they would be watching earlier._

“Can I get his number, Arya, if you aren’t hitting that.” Jeyne called over.

Wordlessly, for if she opened her mouth enough swear words to curl Jeyne and Sansa’s hair were going to spew forth, she raised her middle finger like a flag. The two airheads made their way upstairs, thankfully, before Arya did something she might regret…or not regret but have to explain to her mother.

“So…lesbian, huh?” Jon watched her, a smug look on his face.

Theon piped up. “My sister is bi, I’m sure she can…”

“I will throttle all of you in your sleep is another word comes out of your damn mouth about my sex life.” She rubbed her temples, wishing she had gone upstairs to her room instead of returning to the basement.

Jon chuckled but nobody said a word, a wise move on their parts. He turned the lights off as Napoleon Dynamite began playing. She settled further into the couch, twisting her legs in the blanket, trying to get comfortable…only to realize she had left her phone upstairs in the kitchen earlier. _Seven hells!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you thought of the chapter! 
> 
> Here's next week's sneak peek:  
> ~Never before had he lost focus, lost control while on a mission…and it unnerved him. The mission is absolute. And it always had been…until now. This lovely girl, with her knowing eyes and beautiful smile, caused him to bare a part of him that few were privy too. The truth of himself. ~


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter! Woohoo!!   
> Lemme know what ya think! Kudos and comments appreciated! :)

 

Arya sat in the auditorium of the Bell Museum, waiting for her Research Methods class to begin. It was the Tuesday following the Thanksgiving break. An air of excitement and trepidation hung over the class. There was a revelry in the three days of not having classes, many students returning home for the holiday. That was a breath of fresh air yet it also signaled the ending of the fall semester and for finals to begin in two weeks. Arya’s mind was not on finals or ignoring people’s conversation around her. No, it was on the blonde, wanton TA trying to hold Jaqen’s attention several rows in front of her. It should not matter but Arya could not peel her eyes away from the scene nor stamp down the rising anger towards the TA. Margaery was wearing a low cut floral blouse over very tight jeans, probably wearing a push-up bra too. She was standing in front of Jaqen and Jessica, whom were seated on the front row. Her spot was open, in between the two but she stood up as she animatedly talked, eyes flittering between the two in her audience. Jaqen shift slightly, his hair swaying with the movement. Arya could only see the back of his head and wondered what expression he wore. Were his eyebrows faintly furrowed as when he was thinking deeply about something? Were his lips turned up in that deviously, playful, mischievous smile of his that made her legs turn to jelly? Were his bronze eyes alight with interest or dark as when his thoughts turned deadly and dangerous?

Arya tried to distract herself by playing on her phone but a very feminine, flirty laugh drew her eyes back to the front. Margaery was leaning forward slightly, a hand on Jaqen’s shoulder as if he had told her the funniest joke. Arya felt her skin flush. _He’s not your boyfriend, besides he told you he isn’t interested in her. I know but look at her! Practically draping herself over him!_ She fantasized about walking to the front row, dropping herself into Jaqen’s lap before claiming his lips with her own. _Take that, bitch!_

Instead she pulled out her phone and sent him a text. **Tell that slut if she touches you one more time your pretend girlfriend is going to rip her arm off.**

A minute later she received a reply. **Fear cuts deeper than swords. Or perhaps it is jealousy that cuts a girl currently?**

She could not see his face but she could only imagine the cheeky smirk on it. _Gods he’s infuriating. Well two can play that game._ **I’m not jealous. I just would hate for you to reek of slut later than who knows the unwanted attention you’ll get. Besides if I was jealous, which I’m not, I’d say jealousy is an atom bomb that I’d be willing to drop on her face.**

Quite pleased with her response, she leaned back to see his reaction… well the back of his head’s reaction. A moment later he shifted and put his arm along the back of Margaery’s seat, twisting his body. He lazily scanned the section of the auditorium behind him, not focusing on anyone or anything in particular. Arya knew differently and caught his eye. He sent her a faint smile quickly before his eyes continued to roam those around her. She knew he was being cautious of alerting anyone to their friendship…relationship…thing. A flood of warmth filled her from his look and she gazed down, biting her lip, hoping no one noticed her reaction.

“Hey Arya, How was your Thanksgiving?” Pod sat down next to her, a huge smile on his boyishly round face.

_Oh good, a distraction._ “Really good. How was yours?”

“It was ok. My mom accidently set the turkey on fire so that was fun.”

Arya laughed, trying to imagine her own mother doing something like that and unable to. “What happened?”

He shrugged, his dimples showing. “Who knows? I was downstairs when she started screaming and chucked the pan and everything it was in outside. Now there’s a huge black spot on the grass. The neighbors complained.”

“That sounds…eventful. Is that the first time this happened?”

“I’d like to say yes but no. Last year she tried to fry the turkey instead but that was worse.”

She could not help but laugh at the sheepish way he replied, like telling her this would belittle his Thanksgiving or his mom’s cooking. Which already sounded lacking. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jaqen get up but paid no mind as she kept talking to Pod. “Well hopefully next year you can actually enjoy some turkey and not have your house burn down.”

He chuckled. “Actually I hate turkey so I don’t mind. I just usually have to help clean up whatever mess my mom makes…Oh! Hi, Jaqen!” Pod waved to his TA as Jaqen walked up the aisle towards them.

“Hello, Podrick,” Jaqen stepped to the side to stand in front of Pod, a small smile on his face. “How was your holiday?”

Pod seemed ecstatic that his TA was going out of his way to speak with them. It made Arya sad. _Maybe I need to invite him to hang out with the guys sometime?_

“Oh it was good. The house didn’t burn down. How was yours?” Pod smiled pointedly at Arya, clueing her into the inside joke.

The two girls that sat in her row, scooted past Arya and Pod, both making a point to greet Jaqen.

“It was quite pleasing. Did you still want to meet tomorrow?”

“Oh yes, if that’s alright!”

“Hey, Jaqen.” One of the two girls called over. “Do you have time to meet on Friday?”

“A man will check his schedule, Marie. Perhaps an email sent to remind would be wise?” Jaqen glanced at her before returning his gaze to Pod and Arya. The sound of Professor Tyrion moving onto the stage alerted them to the class beginning. “Tomorrow then, Podrick. Auf Weidersehen, Schönes Mädchen.” He smiled then walked back to his seat in the front row.

“Hey, do you know German? Is that why he spoke to you in German?” Pod whispered, glancing at her.

She tore her eyes away from Jaqen’s retreating form. “Um…I’m learning some.”

“That’s so cool.” His focus turned to the professor talking about the final exam in two weeks.

Arya tried to listen to the professor but snippets of the conversation between the two girls, apparently one Marie, floated to her. Their running dialogue of fantasies involving Jaqen and specific body parts of his caused Arya to grind her teeth. _Stop being stupid, he’s not interested in them. It doesn’t matter._ Thoughts of violence towards the unsuspecting girls filled her mind. Jealousy, the atom bomb she wanted to drop on Margaery, backfired and landed on her. _Ugh! I’m not jealous, we aren’t a thing!_ Yet listening to the two girls talk about him infuriated her and a possessiveness washed over her that was unnerving. Her heart and emotions were getting tangled up with him and that scared her. _What happens now?_

 

* * *

 

“Would a girl like to learn how to punch properly tonight?”

“Hey!” Arya tried to quickly punch Jaqen’s arm as they walked to the gym in Jaqen’s apartment building. Before her fist could make contact, he sidestepped causing only air to resist her.

“A man had such high hopes for his apprentice,” he mourned, shaking his head.

“Fine! Teach me, o wisest sensei, to properly punch someone…as long as I can practice on you.”

“Wisest sensei? A man does not object to this title from a wicked child.”

“Ugh!” She rolled her eyes dramatically, trying desperately to keep from smiling.

He chuckled at her animated expression, keeping pace with her. She had text him earlier that day about hanging out and him continuing to teach her something because her training was slacking. A sense of pride filled him that she wanted to continue learning to defend herself and wanted him to teach her. Finals were next week so he guessed she was bombarded with projects and studying she needed to do, but she still carved out time for him. As they entered into the gym, he watched her eyes widen as she took in the newest addition. In the farthest corner was a new punching bag, hanging from the ceiling.

“Did you get this?” Arya glanced up as they walked towards it.

He smirked. “A girl should practice her punches on something other than her brothers.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “They usually deserve it.” They approached the heavy bag and she touched it tentatively as if confirming it was really there. “Alright, what do I do first?”

“First, a girl should do her exercises?”

“Now? I did them this morning!”

“Show your wisest sensei your improvement.”

She groaned but obediently got down on the floor to begin doing her push-ups. Actually she was quite proud of herself for her improvement and dedication. In the morning she would do the push-ups and crunches, now able to do one hundred each. It was satisfying to accomplish the goal. She could tell her muscles in her arms had grown and her abs were tighter when she flexed. She had never been one to focus on her body, especially when it came to physic in regards to building muscles and tone but she could not help but admit how good it felt. Only in the past two weeks Shireen had finally stopped teasing Arya when she would walk out of her bedroom to find Arya on the living room floor doing her exercises.

“Are you staring at my ass?” Arya flipped over onto her back to begin doing her crunches.

Jaqen leaned against the mirrored wall, one foot propped up on the wall beneath him, thumbs through his belt loops. “A man would never. He was only analyzing a girl’s form. She had much improved.”  

“Uh huh. Stop distracting me.”

Truthfully he had been staring at her ass for a few moments while inspecting the rest of her form. He decided she did have a lovely, round ass that was quite admirable. He was proud of her improvements and had to further stamp down the rising pride inside of him. Seeing her determination and willingness to learn, there was so much he wished he could teach her. She was clay in his hands easily, yet with some complaining, ready to mold into whatever was necessary for instruction. Her mind readily absorbed the information like a sponge. She was made for this. _You are No One._

Done, she laid on the ground, breathing deeply. Squinting her eyes at Jaqen, she teased. “I think next time you should have to do it with me. We could have a race.”

He smiled, watching her. “Perhaps, is a girl ready to learn now?”

“Damn, let a girl catch her breath.” She spat out as she already was rising to her feet. She moved to stand next to the punching bag and Jaqen came to her side.

He grabbed her right hand, forming her fingers into a fist. “First, a lovely girl will strike with these knuckles.” He rubbed his thumb along her pointer and middle fingers’ knuckles. “Curl your thumb outside your fingers, yes?”

“Ok.” Her breathing picked up slightly and she could not tell if it was from her exercises or from Jaqen’s intimate proximity.

“Plant your feet like this. Your chest and hips will turn towards your opponent, see?” He placed his hands on her hips, gently turning them to show her the motion.

She tried to focus but her mind reminded her of how good his hands felt on her hips. His touch lasted several moments longer than necessary as if he was reluctant to lose their touch either. She bit her lip, keeping her eyes on the punching bag.

“Demo.” He took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest.

Quickly she executed a punch, the bag swinging from the hit.

“Bend your knees a little.”

So she did, just before another punch.

“Shoulders relaxed.”

She rolled her shoulders quickly to loosen the tension before punching again.

“Again.” He stepped back to lean against the wall, foot propped up under him. He could not help but admire the way she momentarily lost herself in her actions. So focused on her movements, the placement of her body and the impact of her fist on the punching bag, everything around her diminished. He witnessed it when training her prior. After teaching her a new way to escape a hold or things to be aware of, her sole focus would be on perfecting it until she felt good in her actions. Silently she switched her stance and began to punch using her left hand, getting used to the feel. He realized he preferred this Arya. Although she had looked exquisitely beautiful at Thanksgiving in her dress with makeup and heels, this Arya was his favorite. Yoga pants, t-shirt, Converses, she was relaxed. He did wish she did not always have her hair up because he found it lovely and wanted to run his hands through it.   

“Hey,” Arya turned to face him, a smile on her face, “I realized I don’t know your favorite color.”

He cocked his head to the side, amused. “Why does a girl need this information?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s like basic things friends know about each other. Shireen asked me something the other day about you…and I realized I didn’t know. So what is it?”

“Black.”

“It would be. Isn’t black the absence of color…or is that white? Anyway, what is your favorite food?”

“Cinnamon bread. And yours?”

“I love Mexican food, ah, so good!”

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Why so?”

She pondered for a second. “It’s the color of nature…and life…and its warm.” The word bronze had almost slipped out initially but thankfully she caught herself. “Ok, biggest fear?”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Nothing.”

“Nope, I don’t believe you. Everyone is afraid of something.”

He sighed, it had been conditioned out of him to fear nothing. Now though, the thought of harm coming to his lovely girl caused him to fear but he could not voice that. “Sharks.”

“That’s valid. Luckily we don’t have to worry about any of those in Minnesota. Mine is clowns…Robb and Jon had me watch ‘It’ with them while I was young. I’ve never been able to look at clowns the same.”

He chuckled. “Anything else you wish to know?”

“I’ll ask when it comes to mind.”

“Just so.” He pushed off the wall. “Does a girl wish to practice what she’s learned tonight?”

She laughed as she answered. “Let’s dance.”

 

***** 

 

Arya spent the next half an hour defending herself from Jaqen’s attacks. She discovered quickly that no matter how fast she tried to move to hit him, he was always faster and anticipated her movements. Overall she was able to handle herself well. There was no way she would be labeled an expert or proficient in self-defense but she was learning and knew some basics. _Maybe when Jaqen leaves at the end of the school year, I’ll join a class or gym to learn more._ The thought of Jaqen leaving depressed her so she shoved it aside to ponder over later. Finally he called an end to their sparring and announced he would take her home. She protested but he reminded her they both had academic activities requiring their full attention tomorrow. Childishly she stuck her tongue out at him but stopped arguing.

As they stepped out into the empty hallway, a sudden, overwhelming urge swallowed her consciousness. “Hey…do you know how to pick a lock? You seem like you would…”

He turned back to her, having started down the hallway but within two steps realized she had not moved from standing in front of the gym door. He raised an eyebrow, indicating for her thought process to continue.

A slow step closer to him, her eyes darted to the pool door across the small hallway and back to his eyes. A mischievous smile tugged at her lips.

“Schönes Mädchen…”

“I know its closed! But…its been forever since I was in water and I’ll only stick my feet in…and when is the last time you did something fun like this? Ok, it might be a bit reckless but still!” The words rushed out in a whisper, eyes pleading, biting her bottom lip.

He stared at her a long moment before sighing and running his hand over his mouth and chin. _Why can I not tell her no?_

“Yes…?”

“Five minutes.”

“Eeeek!” She hugged him aburptly then stepped back, a huge smile plastered on her face. “Alright, work your magic!”

Taking the few steps across the hall, he made quick work of the cheap lock on the door. As he opened the door slightly, the smell of chlorine attacked his senses resulting in a brief cough before stepping to the side. “Five minutes.” He reminded her feeling like a chaperone to an unruly child. She grinned, slipping into the mostly dark room. The lights had been turned off so only the lights from the hallway dimly illuminated the large room. Weekdays the pool closed at ten in the evening, when the nightly janitor left the building. Jaqen figured the real reason was they did not want any drunk swimmers wreaking havoc. Leaving Arya, he walked down the hallway a bit to a supply closet. Easily he broke into it and snatched two towels. Even though Arya was only sticking her feet in, he did not want her wet feet to get cold and make her sick from the cold outside. He made a mental note to check the apartment’s footage and delete it. The gym and pool did not have a security camera but the hallway did.

Pushing the door open, he tried to not let the strong chlorine smell suffocate him as he adjusted to it. He noticed her backpack and shoes on a lounge chair directly left of the door, so he moved and dropped the towels down then froze. His mind processed what lay before him. A pair of yoga pants, coat and t-shirt were draped over the chair carelessly. _Verdammt._ He turned slowly, just in time to witness Arya’s head pop out of the hotel-sized pool. She saw him standing frozen. She laughed before doing the breast stroke over to the edge of the pool closest to him. She folded an arm over the other then propped her chin on it.

“I know I said just feet but…I love swimming. Soon as my shoes came off, well,…” Which to a certain extent was the truth. It had been a few months since she had gone swimming and ever since she had seen the pool across from the gym she wanted to try it. Plus she was not ready to go back to her apartment and lose time with Jaqen.

He shook his head, an exasperated but resigned look on his face. He snagged an empty nearby chair and sat down heavily on it.

“You could join me…”

“Nein, Schönes Mädchen, a man is content.”

“Your loss.” She grinned wickedly. “Hey, are you here over the Christmas break? If so, I’m sure you could come to my family’s house for a few days. My mom really likes you…I have no idea why but apparently you made quite the impression.” Sarcasm dripped off her tongue at the end, thinking of her last conversation with her mother on the phone.

“A man must return to Germany for a short time. Otherwise he would enjoy seeing your mother again.”

“You just made that so weird. Don’t forget she’s already got someone panting after her.”

“Baelish, yes?”

“Yep. Creep. When do you leave?”

Something about that name was triggering his memory. He decided to investigate that name later…when there was not a beautiful, most naked, lovely girl before him. “Three days after your final.”

“So soon? I won’t get to see you.” The disappointment washed over her and she could not help as it seeped into her voice.

“Es tut mir leid.”

“Can you text while you’re home? I mean…if you want to keep talking to me.”

“A man will be bored and find his time empty without you to constantly demand attention and favors.”

“Hey!” She splashed water at him. “You could say no.”

“The wrath of Arya Stark is a fearsome thing a man wishes not to be subjected to.”

“Uh huh. Well if my wrath is so terrifying, I demand you get into this pool immediately.”

“A man is comfortable where he sits.”

The image of sitting in his lap and hugging him, causing him to become soaked triggered her to smile and act upon it. Gray eyes holding bronze eyes unflinchingly, she pushed herself out of the water and climbed up onto the pool’s edge. She could see his eyes roam her body quickly, leaving no spot untouched. She forced herself to suppress a delightful shiver. Her current clothing was her navy blue sports bra and her black boy-short underwear. She wondered if she should be ashamed of only being in her bra and underwear in front of him. Gods, she had only known him for two months. The way he looked at her, she was thankful for the dimness in the room so hopefully he could not see her blushing. Walking towards him, she let her hips sway a touch more, brushing her now loose hair behind her shoulder. A thrill ran through her as she saw him swallow before returning his eyes to hers. She stopped in front of his knees. Before she could lean forward, he placed an open palm on her stomach.

 “What is a most lovely girl doing?”

Her mind was chasing after her body’s actions, she had never played the seductress like this before. Nothing remotely sexy was coming to mind so she decided to answer playfully. “You didn’t want to get up, so I figured I’d bring the pool to you.”

He stared into her slate eyes, her skin so soft and wet under his palm. She was so beautiful, so desirable, so unashamed before him. His eyes had greedily watched her swaying hips and small breasts bounce with each step. _Wie kann ein Mann widerstehen?_ He needed to create space between them. Seeing her, his mind conjured images of running his tongue down her neck and between her breasts, of having her legs wrapped around his waist and feeling her flush against him. _You are No One._ _The mission is absolute._ Without warning, he grabbed her waist and carried her to the edge of the pool before tossing her unceremoniously into the water. A moment later, her head burst through the surface, laughing and he smiled in return.

“Come on! You know you want to get in.”

He really did. After a long second of indecisiveness, he gave into the impulse. He was not sure if it was wrong of him but he sent a silent plea to the Many-Faced God that he could maintain his control and Facelessness for it felt futile at the moment. Swiftly he pulled his t-shirt over his head, kicked his shoes and socks off then dropped his pants to puddle around his ankles.

Arya watched, drinking in the sight of Jaqen’s body slowly being revealed. A warmth was pooling between her legs that she desperately tried to ignore. He had the body of a Greek god, all chiseled and perfect. In the dim lighting it was hard to tell if he had a six pack or more-than-that pack, either way she wanted to run her hand along it. There was also that glorious ‘V’ like a trail leading downward to his black boxers. His torso was lean and toned, his arm muscles defined. _Oh gods, I’m going to start hyperventilating. No one has the right to look that good!_ She stood flatfooted, letting the water gently sway her back and forth as her arms moved lazily about. She made no move as she watched Jaqen sit on the edge of the pool and gracefully slip in, barely making a splash. He stood against the side, elbows back on the edge, with an alluring smile on his face. She needed to distract herself somehow.

“What did you want to grow up and be when you were a kid, you know, like forty years ago?”

He splashed water in her direction, a couple feet away from him. “A man is not that old. He is still a few years from seeing thirty.”

She giggled. “Close enough. Answer the question.”

“A police officer. And you?”

“A vet, taking care of all the sick animals and stuff. Then I realized how much school it required and decided I didn’t love it that much.”

“What does Arya Stark want to do now?”

She rolled her eyes. “I think my mom asks me that every other week. Ugh, I’m still not sure yet. There’s so many possibilities but I don’t want to choose the wrong thing and get bored.” Before he could ask her further about her answer, she dove under the water and swam towards the deeper end.

He watched her swim around, still reclining against the side. He wondered why he had not taken advantage of the pool yet. Coming down and swimming laps would be refreshing when he did not want to go on a drive, especially with snow on the ground now. Timing it so no one else was around would be important. The scars on his body would draw attention that he would rather avoid. Oddly enough he did not mind his lovely girl seeing them. He would have to lie when she asked about them. Eventually she popped up near him and moved to stand just outside an arm’s distance from him. While she swam around, he noticed a small tattoo on her shoulder blade. He opened his mouth to ask her about it but she spoke first, cutting his inquiry off.

“Ok, what’s your favorite card or board game.”

“Chess.”

“Mine too! We should play sometime.”

He smiled, intrigued. He thought you could tell much about a person by how they played the game. “A man would enjoy that.” Extending his hand out, he was pleasantly surprised when she took it and allowed him to tug her closer. He pulled her so she stood just in front of him, their hands still clasped under the water.

“Whoa!” Arya’s eyes widened and she lifted her free hand to tenderly run a finger along his scar. It was just about her hand’s length and right underneath his collarbone starting in the middle and going to the left. It was thin yet noticeable from the color and texture. “Someone did not like you.”

He chuckled, running his hand through her hair that lay on her shoulder.

“What happened?”

_Lie! Lie! Lie!_ “A man got into a fight.”

“That’s it?”

He shrugged. The scar was a terrible reminder of a success and failure. If he did not carry the scar, his throat would have been cut open.

“That’s a terrible story. I know there’s more…did you kill him?”

His hand running through her hair did not falter, his heart remained steady but somehow she seemed to be able to read him anyway.

“How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

“I’m so sorry.” There was so much he kept hidden from her, she could read it. She understood, for once, not to push the topic. She doubted there was pleasant memories tied to it. Fifteen and having to kill someone, she could not even image. “And this one?” Her voice softened as her hand moved to trace the small, puckered scar on his shoulder.

“Gunshot.”

“Sounds like you need to work on your diplomacy skills.”

He smiled sadly, keeping his eyes on his hand as he trailed it from her shoulder to her forearm. “And these?”

“Neighbor’s dog bit me, it wasn’t aggressive. I reached for its toy and it didn’t want me to have it apparently.”

Leaning down he kissed each of the four small scars where the dog’s canine teeth had punctured her pale skin.

Hesitantly she stepped closer, pressing her free hand on his side under the water. “My turn.” She pressed a quick kiss to the small scar on his shoulder then moved to the longer one under his collarbone. There she pressed three kisses, one on each end and another in the middle. Tilting her head up, she stared into his striking eyes for several long moments, unable to will herself to move. Ever so slowly she moved her arms up, twisting her wrists behind his neck while his arms circled behind her, pulling her closer. She closed her eyes when his forehead pressed against hers.

There was a nakedness between them, beyond the physical. They shared the breath between them. The pool cooling them but the warmth of their close proximity keeping the chill away. Softly he kissed her forehead, enjoying the feel of her skin under his lips. Tipping his head, he slipped his lips down to the sensitive pulse point on her neck. His lips hesitantly touched, the softest caress on her beautiful skin. A barely audible sigh escaped her lips but it roared within Jaqen’s mind as his willpower crumbled from that small sound.

“Arya.” He moaned as his lips drifted to the corner of her barely parted lips. A ghost of a kiss separated them. It would only take the barest movement for the kiss they both desired and feared.

Her heart pounded like a war drum, her hands tangled in his hair. Her lips ached for his, yearned for their touch, their taste but it felt as if a spell held her in place. Consciousness fled as if the only thing keeping her upright was his arms around her and all her mind could focus on was how close his lips were to hers. _Kiss him! Kiss him!_

“Hey! You two aren’t supposed to be in here! Dammit, it’s closed!”

Arya’s head whirled to stare at the door where a middle-aged, bald man stood in a janitor’s outfit with a scowl on his face.

“The door was unlocked, we assumed something was wrong with the lights.” Jaqen lied easily, turning his head to see the intruder.

“Horse shit. I locked it myself.” The man sighed, glancing into the hallway before turning back. “I gotta get something from the office. I’ll be back in ten minutes, you kids better not be here or I’ll call the cops.” With one last glare at them, the man stomped into the hallway and disappeared.

The spell holding them broke. They released each other and quietly climbed out of the pool. Jaqen handed Arya one of the towels which she murmured a ‘thanks’. Quickly they both dried off and put their clothes back on.

“A man will drive you home.”

She nodded and followed him into the hallway. As they walked under the harsh, florescent lights, she spontaneously reached over and grabbed his hand. There was a quiet tension that filled the gap between them, she hoped holding his hand would bridge it and return things to normal. She did not want to lose him. _Why did he hesitate? Why didn’t he kiss me? Maybe he was waiting for permission?_ He clasped her hand, squeezing it gently causing her heart to flutter. They walked silently out to his car, wrapped in their thoughts and confounded feelings. On the drive over, their hands remained in a tight embrace, grounding them to one another and this world. He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand absentmindedly. Normally she turned on his radio right away but tonight the silence was enough sound. _Do I say something? Will he say something? Gods, why didn’t I kiss him?_ She wanted to beat her head against a wall. For weeks now she had imagined what his lips tasted like, how he would hold her against him and she would float to one of the seven heavens under his touch. She had argued with herself that he did not look at her romantically, only as a friend. As time passed and their small touches and flirting increased, her mind played tricks on her saying he saw her for more, wanted her even as she fervently denied it. Now…now she had to make a choice.

“Can I see you before you leave?” She asked as he pulled up to her building.

“Ja, ich möchte, dass.” He kissed her hand he still held, an unspoken apology for earlier and a lament for the interruption.

She smiled shyly before leaning over and kissing his cheek, her reply to his unspoken words. “I’ll text you. Good night.”

“Gute Nacht, Schönes Mädchen.”

He watched her slide out of his car and walk towards her building. Before entering she gave him her customary wave then disappeared inside. Instead of driving back to his lonely apartment, he turned onto the interstate and drove. His mind fractured thinking of all sides of his current problem…a most lovely Arya. He wanted her, like nothing he had ever experienced before. Her easy friendship was not enough to sate his thirst for her. The siren’s call was too strong for him to resist. He ran a hand through his hair, changing lanes and urging his sleek car faster under the moonlight. It felt as if battle lines had been drawn in his mind. Half lamented the missed opportunity of kissing her and the other half begged him to escape. Perhaps it was best for him to return to London for a time. Let his being return to a place of familiarity and allow these foolish feelings and notions to die. It would be pleasing to see his sister again and if his brother had completed his mission then go to a pub with him. Never before had he lost focus, lost control while on a mission…and it unnerved him. _The mission is absolute._ And it always had been…until now. This lovely girl, with her knowing eyes and beautiful smile, caused him to bare a part of him that few were privy too. The truth of himself. How many times had the truth slipped from his lips in answer to her when a lie was the correct response? And tonight…the ghost kiss haunted him. He could still feel her in his arms, her skin under his lips. She was a poison to him, slipping into his blood and his mind without an antidote. His fate was to burn by her hands, her touch, her kiss. He had to gain back some resemblance of control. _You are Faceless._ For the first time in his life since entering the House of Black and White, he wondered if he could truly continue to be Faceless.

 

* * *

 

Jaqen leaned back in his office chair, rubbing a hand over his mouth and chin. He expected his office hours to be busy and the next few days with desperate students before their final. The final was in three days, then three days later he would be flying to London. He had not heard from his Master since their phone conversation on Thanksgiving. It was bittersweet thinking about going back, more bitter than sweet. The prior night he finally ruffled through his many passports and found a suitable one for getting him from Berlin to London undetected. Leaving America he would be Jaqen H’ghar to arrive in Berlin. From Berlin to London he would be Brenden Reed, a man traveling to meet some old university friends for an extended vacation. Once in London and at the House of Black and White, he would be No One. Just a man. Faceless. Or so he hoped.

 His phone beeped, alerting him to the dead man’s activities. A barely noticeable peek over his shoulder confirmed Brad was absorbed in his own paperwork with headphones on. Jaqen put one of his earbuds in and closed his eyes. _Was passiert?_

 

“…I have a guest traveling in to see me then.” Professor Tywin flatly stated.

Professor Tyrion sighed before further pushing his point. “Can it not be any other week in February? Jamie is coming into town to honor mother’s…”

“I know full well what that weekend is!” The dead man’s voice was unnervingly icy cold as deadly frost. “You and your brother can do what you want.”

“It’s been thirty-five years.” Tyrion’s voice sounded small, almost the image of a boy pleading with his father.

“You need not remind me of how long my wife has been dead. If it wasn’t for you, she would have gotten the chemo she needed!”

Tyrion laughed, the sound grating and painful. “Right, I purposefully gave her cancer. Alright, who is this guest that is so important? I may be a bastard dwarf in your eyes but I’m not stupid to be oblivious to your dealings. Where is this guest from? Moscow? Tokyo? Nepal?”

“It’s a shame your brother lacks the wit and cunning needed for this work…I will be entertaining this guest for the weekend, coming from Thailand. I’m going to need the name of that madam you are so fond of using for your own nightly activities. Shae, was it?”

“I’ll get her number for you.” Tyrion said curtly after a long pause.

“That’s a good boy. Now I’ve matters to attend too.”

Jaqen listened for a few more minutes but after the sound of Tyrion slamming the office door shut, all he could hear was the dead man typing away at the computer. _The Red Snake, that has to be the guest._ From what his spying had discovered, the dead man and the Red Snake were on rocky ground as business partners. _They must mean to fix the dealings and solidify their partnership._ He wondered how this would change the Order’s plans for moving forward. Kill two birds with one stone or wait and see how it plays out? He thought about alerting his Master to the appointment set but decided this information could wait until he arrived to share it in person. Six days was not too long.

His office hours would begin in less than an hour. He rifled through some papers on his desk, sliding them in a drawer to clear off space. Typically he preferred to keep his space neat and orderly. He had become accustomed to having the barest of personal possessions and with that everything had its place. It was probably a sub-conscious way of him to assert control in his life but he did not ponder it too much. A faint knock on the door surprisingly had him lift his gaze to see who would be stopping by.

Arya stepped into the room, scanning quickly before slightly closing the door behind her as it was before. She had been getting an early lunch when something prompted her to buy another sandwich for Jaqen. They had not spoken since their last encounter on Friday but her mind continued to constantly replay the events whenever she closed her eyes. The way things ended in his car, it was not awkward or tense, so she did not think he was upset with her. Gods, she wanted to kiss him though. She almost had but kissed his cheek instead. A piece of her nagged that he was still a TA and kissing him probably was not wise. With only three days left of the semester, she told that little voice to bugger off. If he kissed her, she sure as hell would not stop him.

“Hey, Jaqen.” Her smile grew as a beautiful smile appeared on his face. _Gods, he’s a specimen of mankind._ Memories of what lay hidden away under his clothes only confirmed her thoughts. _It should be illegal to look that good._ She realized she had missed him, even though it had only been a weekend since they last spoke.

Jaqen felt the smile creep on his face as soon as he laid eyes on her. “Schönes Mädchen.” He glanced at Brad who still had his back turned, headphones over his ears.

“Oh, don’t get up. I can’t stay. I’m just dropping some lunch off for you and don’t tell me you’ve already eaten or have food because we both know it’s a lie.” She teased, handing him the to-go bag from Erbert’s and Gerbert’s. “There is a sub and chips in there for you.”

“Danke, Arya.”

“Bitte.” She winked at his surprised expression. “Yeah, yeah, I may have looked up a few phrases the other day. Don’t expect to be having a full conversation  in German with me anytime soon.”

He smirked. “Where are you off to?”

“Well I’m going to meet with my TA with a few questions to prep for the final. I have an appointment with her but wanted to drop this by you first.”

It was wise of her to make use of her new TA but it still stung a bit that she had not come to him for help. Even if she was not his student anymore, he hoped she knew she could still come to him. He rose, having set the food on his desk and wrapped her in a hug.

She giggled, hugging him back. “Oh my, Herr H’ghar, are you always so friendly with your students?”

“Only those that feed me.”

She laughed before dropping her voice low and looking up at him. “Can we hang out Thursday or Friday? I’m going back to my family’s house on Saturday with Jon for the weekend.”

He knew Thursday and Friday were going to be busy with grading papers and entering grades for students to see their scores. It did not matter, he would forgo sleep to see her before he left. “Friday, after a girl gets off her work?”

“Perfect.” She stepped back, wishing she did not have to dash but conscientious of her TA, Jessica, and Jaqen’s time. “See you later.”

He said good-bye and watched her slip out. Friday could not come soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I promise a kiss is coming soon! Just hang in there. ;)
> 
> Sneak peek of next week's chapter:  
> ~He put a hand up, stopping her advancement. His inner turmoil resounded within his voice, the pain, the fear and the anguish clouding it. “Stay away. Its best for you. Please.”  
> “I want to know what’s going on, Jaqen!” She pushed his hand away, advancing on him. “I deserve the truth.”~


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, this is not as revised as I would like it to be but honestly its been a really rough week physically and emotionally so please ignore the typos and other small issues. I was concerned I wasn't going to get this posted on time for you guys. Y'all are the best!

 

Arya looked over her final exam answers, double-checking she had filled in all the bubbles on the exam answer sheet and had her name and student ID easily readable. She sighed, glancing around the auditorium. Only half the class remained working on their final exam. It had been tough, her brain physically hurt but a sense of relief filled her with finally being done. Quietly as she could, she gathered her things and test papers. Pod gave her a quick smile from beside her before he looked back down at his own exam.

The walk to the front of the auditorium seemed to be endless. Each step full of nervousness because once she turned in her test answers, she could not go back and change them but also excitement because once she handed over the papers, it would signify the end of the fall semester of her sophomore year. Her final for Research Methods was her last exam of her classes and it felt so good to be done. Her brain yearned for a break and time to recharge. Finals week and the week before were always strenuous physically and mentally. Now it was all over and the cards would land where they may. She did the best she could.

Jessica smiled as Arya handed her the exam and answer sheet. “Thanks, hey, email me if you have any more questions about classes. I’ll be around during break if you want to meet up.”

“I will, thanks for your help.” Arya returned the smile. The few days before when Arya stopped by seeking help, the two of them had gotten into a discussion about Arya’s Spring class schedule and offered advice about classes and professors to avoid. Arya wished she had met Jessica earlier because she found the girl genuinely helpful. Not that she would have given up meeting Jaqen. It was just nice to know there was someone she could ask about classes to. Arya was not a fan of her academic advisor, finding him a creepy, bubbling idiot.  

Pulling her backpack on over her coat, she headed towards the side door to make a quiet escape. That meant she had to walk by Jaqen, who stood surveying the auditorium like a security guard. The TAs seemed to rotate walking up and down the aisles to make sure the students were not cheating and answering any questions they were able to. Those not walking took the exams and answer sheets at the front when students finished. Arya walked behind him, keeping her gaze on the door.

 “Auf Weidersehen, Herr H’ghar.” She softly said as she passed by. A couple seconds later, she pushed the door open and stepped into the blinding light reflecting off the snow on the ground. She took a deep breath, the cold stabbing her lungs but it felt good. Her semester was done. For the next month she did not have to worry about papers, tests, quizzes, or homework. She planned to watch as many movies as she could, catch up on all her Netflix shows she had neglected and hang out with her brothers and Nymeria as much as she could. Over the break she would still work at the coffee shop so she would be commuting some but she planned on relaxing as much as possible. Tomorrow though, she grinned thinking of Jaqen, she hoped she kissed him. That would be the perfect way to end the semester.

 

* * *

 

“So are you and your guy dating?” Brienne pointedly asked while keeping her eyes on the espresso machine she was wiping down.

Arya rolled her eyes, keeping her voice low. “No, we’re just friends.”

Brienne snorted. “Not with the looks you give each other behind my back.”

Glancing over at Jaqen sitting at his table, Arya groaned. “Its complicated. Hey, how about you and Tormund?”

Brienne froze then straightened, fiddling with the rag in her hands. “I think…I think if he asks me out again…I’m going to say yes.”

“Well that’s great! Why don’t you ask him out?”

“That would be improper!” The large blonde’s eyebrows practically touched her hairline in astonishment of Arya’s suggestion.

Arya snorted. “What century do you live in? Its ok for you to take initiative if you’re ready.”

“I know. I’ll think about it. Hey, why don’t you go check with Gilly in the back? We’ve gotten most of the stuff done, you could probably head out early if you want.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Arya smiled at her friend and went to check with her manager. Five minutes later, she was walking out of the back room, ready to go. She could not help the smile that lit up her face as she walked over to where Jaqen sat. His laptop was open before him, commanding his attention until he noticed her approaching.

“Is a lovely girl done already?” He glanced at the time on his laptop, it was only eight in the evening. Typically she worked another hour.

“Yep,” she popped the ‘p’ as she slid onto the chair across from him. “What are you feeding me tonight?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What is a man supposed to feed a constantly ravenous girl?”

She bit her lip, pretending to contemplate, before blurting out what she had been thinking about for the past couple hours. “Chinese!”

“As you wish.” He winked, closing down his laptop. “Is there a place in particular?”

“Whatever is fast. I think there’s somewhere on the next road over.”

It turned out the fast food place was in Dinkytown but Arya did not mind the extra driving. They talked, teasing one another and asking random questions of each other. She loved riding in his sleek car and watching him drive. There was a strange sense of freedom, she wondered if he would ever let her drive it. When they did lapse into silence it was never uncomfortable, the music filling the void of conversation. Eventually they grabbed the Chinese take-out and went back to Jaqen’s place.

“Ok, what do you do with your free time when I’m not around?” Arya took a bite of her orange chicken, sitting on a bar stool.

Jaqen sat next to her, chop sticks halfway to his mouth. He paused then took the bite of lo mein, giving himself a moment to think. This silly game of questions they played had the opportunity to be dangerous depending on his answers. He should lie, he needed to answer based on what Jaqen H’ghar the German TA would say. Yet he found himself answering truthfully, at least as much as he could. “A man enjoys reading and driving fast.” It was his turn now; in their game they asked each other questions but it could not be a repeated question. “Does a girl have only one tattoo?”

“How…oh…” She blushed for a split second recalling how Jaqen would have been able to see the tattoo on her shoulder. They had not talked about what happened between them in the pool, even though gods know she had replayed the memory frequently. “Yeah, just one. I convinced Jon and Gendry to take me for my eighteenth birthday. My mother doesn’t know.”

“May a man see it someday?”

“Maybe…but its my turn to ask the question.” She took a bite of her rice then twirled the chopsticks in her fingers. _What do I really want to know?_ “Ok, first kiss? Be honest.”

He ran a hand over his mouth and chin as he watched her too eager eyes. Her smirk grew the longer his answer was delayed. _A lie or the truth? With this it should not matter._ He sighed, resigned. “A man was young, around fifteen. He was walking down the street late at night. A small group of…intoxicated ladies a couple years older than him walked out of a pub next to him. One of the ladies tripped, a man managed to catch her in time to prevent a fall. She was most grateful and proceeded to show her gratitude.”

“That’s hilarious and terrible. Did you like it? Did she French kiss you?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “That was not part of a lovely girl’s question. It is a man’s turn now…. Last book you read?”

“Carrie by Stephen King. That man is both amazing and terrifying with what he can write. Ok, ok. What’s your favorite accent, o great world traveler?”

“A lovely girl’s.”

She rolled her eyes yet suppressed the warmth that rose in her belly. “American? No, there has to be something better than that. We sound so uneducated compared to British and French accents.”

“Perhaps, but a man still enjoys hearing Arya Stark’s accent.”

“Alright, that’s a terrible answer. Your question now.”

He chuckled, taking a bite of his food. Most of their questions had been light-hearted and he wondered how she would respond to something deeper. He wanted to know more of her. What made her laugh and cry? What made her bleed and fight? What was her sunshine and rain? “What is one of your sorrows?”

She froze momentarily, her mind swirling with what her answer should be. Edric was an obvious one, she wished she could go back and change her ‘yes’ to a ‘no’ but she learned from that mistake. The night of her attack, she should have taken the campus bus instead of walking back to her apartment but then she would not have gotten to know Jaqen. She bit her lip, different moments and events passing by in her mind’s eye. The answer came a few moments later. “I wish I had given my father a hug and told him I loved him instead of playing on my phone…I didn’t think that would be the last time I saw him alive.” Her voice cracked on the last word but she refused to allow tears to flow.

Jaqen reached over and massaged the back of her neck, a comforting touch. “Life is fleeting, we do not know our ending or its timing. Its not your fault, Schönes Mädchen.”

“I know, I know.” She took a deep breath, shoving the emotions down before looking over at him. “Are you done eating? Want to watch a movie?”

“If you want to.”

She genuinely smiled, the light returning to her eyes. “I’m not going to see you for a month, I’m going to stay as late as I can until you kick me out.”

“Go find a movie, a man will clean up.” He threw away the empty Chinese take-out boxes and put the leftovers in the fridge, which was not much. It was astounding how much Arya could eat, for her lithe body said otherwise. From the corner of his eye, he saw her pull a movie out of her backpack and put it in the DVD player before settling onto the couch. He realized how much he would miss this while gone, these simple, relaxed times shared in easy friendship. Although he desperately resisted the urge to kiss her, so perhaps not such an easy friendship. When finished he dropped onto the couch and was pleased when Arya moved to sit by him, her head on his shoulder. Reaching over, he grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers. He could not deny the magnetized feeling that still held them, his hand forced to find hers, their bodies forced to be close to relieve the magnetized tension which bonded them now. He tipped his head back on the couch as the movie began. A slow smile slipped onto his face as he could faintly hear Arya whispering along to the dialogue. Yes, he would miss this and yearn for it. This strange thing between them but now he so desperately desired. Contently, he closed his eyes listening to the movie and Arya’s whispering.

*****

Arya felt Jaqen’s body go slack and realized he had dozed off. It surprised her, clearly he was more exhausted then he let on to be. In his car he had mentioned grading the one hundred plus student exams he had was taking more time and energy than he had anticipated. It did not help he was leaving soon so his time was limited. Realizing how much of a time-crunch he was in and apparently how tired he was, made her feel, if possible, even more special that he would still want to spend time with her. His hands twitched minimally, still holding hers. _Do I wake him up and leave? Do I stay? Why didn’t he tell me he was so tired? I should leave._ Looking down at their entwined hands, his skin golden and hers a pale, alabaster color, she did not want to let go. It was selfish but she wanted to stay close to him, even if he was sleeping. _Does that make me a creeper?_ She turned her attention back to the TV with Captain Jack Sparrow and Will Turner arguing but her thoughts buzzed in her mind like wasps waiting to sting her. Jaqen H’ghar. The man, the mystery, the friend, the too-sexy-for-his-own-damn-good and here she was holding his hand. It felt partially surreal. All she knew was she did not want to give this up, she hoped that they would stay in contact over break and be able to pick back up where they left off. Even if it never turned romantic, _you hope it does, shut up!,_ she enjoyed his company and friendship. Yet there was something different…exciting…dangerous about him. It felt like understanding was just beyond her fingertips, she could sense it but she could not quite grasp it. Again she wondered if she should be frightened but she was not. He killed for her, as odd as that sounded. That is not normal, at least within her circle of family and friends. He protected her in a way that no one else could. He taught her to protect herself. He made her feel brave and strong again. He was…important to her. Yes she desperately wanted to kiss his sensual lips but it was more than that. He was the key that unlocked the chains of her feeling helpless and she could never repay him for that. Finally the movie ended and she debated on what to do. She was surprised he was still sleeping. _Gods, he must have been exhausted._ She doubted she would be able to sneak away without waking him. Tenderly reaching her free hand up, she ran it down his cheek and softly spoke his name.

 

_The darkness he was friends with, the utter blackness left by the absence of any light felt unusually heavy and oppressive. He pushed open the closet door of his parent’s closet and stepped out into the training room of the House of Black and White. Suddenly he stood in the middle with his Master beside him, a grim smugness on his face. Laying on the ground at their feet, bloody and panting was another apprentice. A dark-haired, dark-skinned boy of fourteen, the same age the apprentice-who-was-now-Jaqen had been when the fight took place._

_“Finish it.” His Master commanded, voice void of any emotion._

_The German apprentice punched the boy’s face again, hearing the boy’s grunt but no other defense. Even at this age, the German apprentice was noted as the best of the apprentices, even those older than him. This had not been a fair fight from the beginning. Yet this fight had not been about winning but learning what it takes to force a man to pass out. This was the demonstration after learning about it in the classroom prior. He hit the bloody boy again. You are No One. You feel nothing. The German apprentice got on his knees above the bloodied boy and wrapped his hands around his neck. Watching the boy squirm under him, he sneaked a glance at his Master who watched, one corner of his mouth tilted up slightly. In that moment, the boy with the white forelock and control beyond his years realized he both loved and hated his Master. He loved the man for saving him from the cold, hard streets of Berlin and giving him a purpose with his life. He would forever be indebted to the man for seeing a dirty, starving boy and raising him up to be a strong, fearless, and ruthless man. But he hated his Master for what he forced the apprentices to do to one another and the hidden delight his Master gained from it. Suddenly the bloodied boy beneath him began to claw at him and cry out ‘Jaqen’ which was odd because the German apprentice no longer had a name. Then the boy’s skin paled, hair became brown and piled messily on his head. The German apprentice blinked and gray eyes stared back at him, widened in terror._

 

Jaqen leapt off the floor, heart pounding, hands shaking, mind unable to process what just happened. Below him on the floor, in between the couch and coffee table lay his lovely girl. Her stormy eyes round as full moons, breathing heavily, hands covering her throat. He ran his hands through his hair, his mind trying desperately to tell him what just happened and him denying it fervently. Taking a step and leaning forward, he held out a hand to help her up. “Lovely girl, a man…” But he lost his words as he witnessed her flinch and curl up trying to protect herself. Laying there on the ground, she looked up at him with such a utter state of confusion, anger and helplessness upon her beautiful face. He wished he could claw his heart and eyes out. Only in his nightmares had he caused her pain. This…this was far worse than he imagined. He slowly took a step back and then another before turning and walking towards the kitchen. His heart, his being lay shattered on the floor next to her and he did not know how to pick up the pieces.

After several impossibly long and agonizing minutes, Arya sat up on the floor. The pain in her throat subsided but now up, she felt dizzy as her head was swirling about her and it was difficult to swallow. Her mind tried to make sense of what just happened. She had touched Jaqen to wake him up then next thing she knew her head was slammed against the floor and his hands were around her throat. His eyes though…those beautiful bronze orbs stared at her with a burning, murderous hellfire that frightened her more than her airways being cut off. She was looking death in the face. It had only been a couple seconds but it felt like years. She clawed at his hands and tried to cry out his name. Helplessness and hopelessness washed over her. This was her end. Then it was like a light-switch turned on and Jaqen returned to his body. He blinked and leapt off of her, his own face convulsed in equal amounts of confusion and horror.

Once it felt like the world was no longer spinning rapidly around her, she looked around but did not see Jaqen. _What the hell? Should I just leave?_ Cautiously she got up, using the couch to support her weight and steady her. Swallowing was becoming less difficult and she wondered if her throat was as red. She started towards the door, if she called Jon he would come get her. A glance towards the kitchen and she could see Jaqen’s foot on the ground. It would be wisest for her to leave, to forget Jaqen and their time together. But she wanted answers. Half stumbling, half storming over to the kitchen, she was even more surprised to see Jaqen sitting on the floor. His back against the counter that jutted out, facing away from the TV, his legs pulled up and head in his hands, body shaking. She leaned against the fridge, watching him.

“Jaqen,” her voice rasped but she continued, “what in the seven hells was that?”

He gazed up at her. His body shook from the fading adrenaline and the tangible fear replacing it. Her neck and exposed top of her chest were red from where his hands, _my hands!_ , had harmed her. Her eyes looked slightly bloodshot. If he left fingerprints or any further damage on her, the fury at himself may overtake him and he was unsure how he would react.

“Jaqen! Talk to me! What just happened?!”

 The way her voice rasped as she spoke made him further hate himself. He should have ended their friendship long ago, for both their sakes. “A man is so sorry, Schönes Mädchen…”

“NO!” She interrupted, anger and hurt boiling over within her. “Why did you do that?”

How could he say it was from a dream yet waking up became the nightmare? Unsure of himself, he rose and leaned against the counter behind him. He needed to end this now. “Its not safe for you to be around a man. You should call one of your brothers to get you. This…” he gestured between them, “this is through.”

She opened her mouth but no words came out. _What is he saying? He’s not safe? Obviously now. He…we’re through?_ She rubbed her face with her hands. “What are you talking about?”

“A man feared…this…a man will not let this happen again. You must forget a man.”

He looked so dejected, his face haggard like he had not slept for a week, his eyes dull and dead. She almost felt pity for him. Almost. The fresh memory of his hands around her throat convinced her otherwise. “No! Its not ending like this. You tell me what just happened! You were asleep and then…then suddenly you’re strangling me! That’s not a normal reaction! What the hell is going on?”

“Please, Arya, just go. A man cannot say more.”

A dawning realization struck her. That very piece of understanding just beyond her reach she thought of earlier seemed to move into the light a bit. She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes boring into him. “Who are you? Don’t give me the TA bullshit, we moved way beyond that when you killed Ramsay. What are you doing here?”

He just shook his head. “Lovely girl, please…” he begged of her, begged to be released from her spell, begged to keep his secrets and darkness of comfort, begged her to walk out of his life so hopefully he could fill the void of her absence.

“I deserve answers. What is going on? Who are you really?” She took a step towards him, her emotions boiling over. She wanted to both scream at him and fall into his arms crying.

He put a hand up, stopping her advancement. His inner turmoil resounded within his voice, the pain, the fear and the anguish clouding it. “Stay away. Its best for you. Please.”

“I want to know what’s going on, Jaqen!” She pushed his hand away, advancing on him. “I deserve the truth.”

Quick as a snake, he grabbed her hips and shoved her against the counter where he had just been standing. His face inches away from hers, both of their chests heaving from the adrenaline and argument. He stared into her steel eyes, sharp enough to cut him. At the moment he welcomed the pain, he deserved far more. “Does a girl not understand it’s not safe to be around a man. He is dangerous. Its not safe to be in his company or to know who he is.” He hissed at her, hoping the truth of his words would sink into her mind.

“Oh it’s not safe?! Seven hells! You killed someone to protect me! I know that you are dangerous!”

“A girl is foolish to think she knows everything about a man. A girl should leave and never look back.” He moved away from her, taking a few steps back to put space between them.

She ran her hands over her face, frustrated with herself and with Jaqen. _Gods, why won’t he just tell me?_ She could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Blinking them back quickly, she glared at him a few steps away. “I trusted you…and you just tried to choke me! Do you know how that made me feel?” The words came tumbling out before she realized what she was saying, as if the words came out on their own accord. “You’ve taught me to be strong, that I don’t have to be helpless and then…this…I thought you were going to kill me! I don’t ever want to feel helpless again and gods, I couldn’t do anything…”

He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed before opening them again. “A man never wished to harm you. It won’t happen again.”

“Can you promise that? Really? You were asleep, for gods’ sake!” The tears poured down her cheeks and she hated it. She slumped to the floor, her body no longer willing to support her anger and transforming it into despair. He was her friend, she trusted him and now…he wanted her gone and harming her. It was too much. 

Running a hand over his chin and mouth, he watched Arya staring blankly before her, tears running down her cheeks. His mind and heart warred within him seeing her torment.  His already shattered heart broke even further. Wisdom cried for him to call one of her brothers to come get her, have her walk out his door and never see her again. This pain between them would only worsen, the idea of a ‘them’ was a mirage. The closer they drew to it, the more beautiful it appeared, it was still only a painful illusion that would eventually drag them into the depths of the desert of sorrow. He knew this. His head knew this. Yet his heart seemed to have taken control of his body. Before he could stop himself, he moved to her side. Ever so slowly, he knelt next to her and pulled her against him. For a fraction of a second she hesitated then threw her arms around his neck. Somehow he managed to sit down and pull her into his lap, her arms around his neck and his around her back. They held one another for a long time, silent tears leaked from the eyes of both of them, tears of pain, tears of betrayal, and tears of longing for something they had only tasted when together.

Eventually she leaned back slightly to look into his beautiful, distraught eyes. A tear slipped down his cheek, surprising her. She wiped it away shakily with her thumb. “I’ve never thought you would harm me. Never.” She admitted softly. “Please…tell me what’s going on.”

“A man cannot, however much he desires to. It is not safe for a lovely girl to know. It puts her further in harm’s path.”

“Do you not trust me? I can keep a secret, I promise. Please, help me understand.”

He groaned, moving his hands to cup her face and press his forehead to hers. He closed his eyes, praying silently. It took every ounce of his strength not to pour himself out before her. To abandon reason and admit all. Never before had he so strongly desired to share himself truly with someone. To allow her to see his fears and flaws, to tell her who and what he was, how she made him see things differently now, she was his reason now. He came to fulfill a mission but he would stay for her. “Nein, Schönes Mädchen. A man trusts you, he only wishes to keep you safe. You have become the most important person to him. Du bist Meine Herzallerliebste.”  

A small gasp escaped her lips at his confession. She wanted to doubt it, deny it because who was she to deserve his affection. It was his gentle touch and his broken voice, bearing his honesty and heart before her. “Jaqen…I don’t want to lose you…please don’t make we go. Please just talk to me.”

 “Lovely girl, a man wants to. Please believe him, he wants nothing more than for you to know but he cannot. It’s not safe for you…for us.”

“You keep saying that. What do you mean? Are you in trouble?” She could feel him tense and try to move away from her. Before he could slip her off his lap she grabbed his hands and squeezed. “No, don’t hide from me. Tell me…tell me what you can…please.”

He ran a hand over his mouth and chin. What could he tell her? It should never have gotten to this point. How could he deny her after all this? “A man’s position here…a PhD student is a cover.”

She snorted. “That’s pretty obvious now.”

He momentarily glared at her interruption but continued. “A man was sent to watch…keep an eye on a particular person.”

“So, you’re a spy?”

“In a sense.”

“But…that’s not your normal…thing? Who do you work for?”

He could see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to read between the lines and guess. “Please, Arya. That is all a man can say, that is more than a man should have said. It’s not safe to know.”

She nodded, forcing herself to resign her questioning and let him have his…privacy? Carefully she stood up and pulled him with her, hesitation on his face but blindly trusting her. Pressing her backside against the counter, she disengaged their hands and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug, needing the reassurance and comfort. Immediately he pressed himself against her, holding her like a lifeline. It was in his touch, his confessions that comforted her. Whatever was going on, they would figure it out. She could trust him once again. Maybe it was the psychology student within her but she wondered what kind of trauma he had experienced for him to try and choke someone in his sleep. Whatever it was, it could not be his fault. He never meant to hurt her. With her head pressed against his chest, she tipped her face up to gaze at him. Feeling her shift he looked down at her, adoration and concern lighting his eyes. Without thinking she lifted herself up slightly onto her toes and pressed her lips to his quickly. She pulled back just enough to share the breath between them. A sudden rush went to her head. _Gods, his lips were so soft._

 “Arya…” He moaned her name hoarsely before his lips descended on hers. It was soft and sweet. That’s all it should have been. He needed to pull back, to release her and have her leave his life. His body betrayed his mind as one of his hands moved behind her neck to deepen the kiss and the other hand to her lower back. Her mouth opened beneath his and it felt as if lightening struck them. What magnetized feeling fought them now exploded within with an insatiable thirst that only each other’s touch and taste could satisfy. Roughly, he grabbed her waist and pulled her up so she sat on the counter before him. She opened her legs and wrapped them around his thighs as he moved between them, desperate to get as close to her as possible. His hands roamed her body on their own accord, traveling from her thighs, up her back and back down. Her hands were tangled in his hair, pulling his mouth closer to hers. Her tongue darted into his mouth and he moaned as his sought hers out. He swore he was on fire but he did not care. Let the flames burn him alive, let them cleanse his body and soul as long as the taste of his lovely girl remained on his lips. This passion…this fire…this awakened thrill was like nothing he had ever experienced before. The need for air was increasing yet he loathed the idea of separating his mouth from hers. Finally he relented, gasping, his lungs burning but he could not stop. This fire consumed him and he needed her. His lips sought out her tender neck, her ears, her jaw, her exposed collarbone, each touch and taste of his lips and tongue a declaration, an apology, an unspoken desire to be owned by her body and soul. He knew he would never be the same. She tasted of heaven. Nothing would ever compare to her. Her moans and sighs of his name reverberated within his core as her hands tugged painfully at his hair. He welcomed the pain for it was bringing her pleasure under his ministrations. Slowly, he made his way back to her mouth, to taste of heaven. Once their lips locked, his tongue sought hers but this time she caught his and sucked on it. He moaned loudly, unashamed, as he pressed himself further against her, his hardened manhood against her thigh. She was his siren, bewitching ad intoxicating to him. Forevermore he would be labeled a man lost at sea, caught in her claws yet unwilling to escape.

Time ceased to exist as they passionately kissed. It felt so good, so right. A rational part of Arya’s mind demanding attention screamed that this was not a good idea, but she easily ignored it. _How could this not be perfection?_ Her prior kissing experience had in no way prepared her for this. Edric seemed like kissing one’s grandfather’s cheek. Kissing Jaqen…this is what it should be like. A fight of domination and submission, to share a piece of oneself in a tangible way, to be undone by the sensations and feelings that stirred in her body. It was everything and more she had thought kissing him would be. Finally her body’s desperate, frenzied need for air forced her to pull away from his intense, delicious lips. _Gods, those lips are magical!_ She dropped her head on his shoulder, panting, her hands still tangled in his hair. He nuzzled the corner of her neck and shoulder. She could hear him murmuring something in German but understanding eluded her. They both stayed that way until their rapid breathing and heartrate began to normalize. _If this is what making out is supposed to be like, its amazing anyone in a relationship gets anything done. Gods, I want to keep kissing him and never stop._ Actually there was nothing stopping her from doing just that. Tipping her head back, she kissed his cheek facing her. Her legs tightened behind his thighs, pulling him even closer if that was possible.

“Lovely Arya.” He purred, drawing his face back, eyes closed. His lips drifted agonizingly faintly over hers before he pressed his forehead to hers. Slowly his bronze eyes opened, pupils dilated, looking like solar eclipses.  “I’ve been wanting to do that for a very long time.”

“Mmm…well you took your sweet, precious time.”

He smiled. During their kissing her hair bun had loosened and hung limply. Gently he tugged it free of its band and ran his hands through it. The smell of lavender drifted upwards. “Arya, we can’t…”

“Please don’t break up with me…I mean, end this.”

“It would be wisest…”

She buried her face deeper into his chest, growling her disagreement.

“Was soll ich mit Ihnen machen?” He muttered, still running a hand through her hair.

“Are you insulting me again?”

“Nein, a man will miss his most lovely girl while he is gone.”

“Mmm…I’ll miss you too.” She sighed as he pressed feather-light kisses to the top of her head. “Jaqen, can you do something for me?”

“Yes?”

She leaned back to see his reaction. “Can you be honest with me…I know you can’t share everything and I’ll respect that however much it irks me. But…in everything else, can we only have honesty? Even if its to tell me that you can’t talk about it? No more lies.”

He could feel himself stiffen when the word ‘honest’ was in her request. How could he honor that? “A man will try…most of his life he had been taught to lie and how to replace truth with lies.”

“That’s all I ask. Now, kiss me again so I can remember this while you’re gone.”

He laughed but obliged her. He wondered if it was possible to tire of kissing her. They fit so well together, as if molded for one another from the beginning of time. “A man should take you home. The hour is late.”

“I don’t want to. Please. Can I stay here?” She knew she sounded like a pouting child but in the moment she did not care. He was leaving her soon and she coveted all the time they could have together.

“No, that would not be wise. Perhaps time apart would be best for us.” He teased, stepping out of her embrace.

“Ugh, how can you even joke about that? For all I know, you’ll come back and have forgotten all about me or have a ‘real’ girlfriend suddenly.”

“Oh, Schönes Mädchen, a man will never forget you, even when he is old and gray. You are more likely to realize the wisdom in staying away from me.”

“I won’t, I promise.” She slid off the counter and moved to put her hand on his chest. “I’ll wait.”

He placed his hands over hers. “Please, take this time to think about this. A man cannot promise what will happen once his mission is complete. He will not stay here though for long. A man does not want to hurt a lovely girl anymore than he already has.”

“I understand.” Standing up on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips quickly to his for a chaste kiss. “If anything we can pretend I’m your girlfriend to further your cover. We’ll say it’s a student-teacher kink thing.”

He laughed, swatting her backside lightly. “Go get your things, wicked child. I’m taking you home.”

She giggled, sauntering away from him to grab her movie and backpack. Jaqen helped her slip her coat on and they walked out the door. On the way to his car and on the drive over, they held hands, frequently sharing a smile.

“Will you text me over the break?” Arya asked, not wanting to get out even though they were parked outside of her apartment building.

“Arya…”

“If you’re able to, can you, please?”

He kissed her hand he held. “A man will try. He does not want to draw too much attention.”

“Ok. Thank you. Now’s as good a time as any.” She rustled through her backpack before pulling out a rectangular object in wrapping paper. “Merry early Christmas, Jaqen.”

Hesitantly he took it from her. By the size and weight he guessed it was a book of some kind. All he could do was stare at the carefully wrapped gift in his lap. He could not think of the last time someone bought him a present. Gifts were beyond rare in the House and before that…no one cared enough.

“Don’t open it now. Wait until you’re on your plane over.”

His voice caught as he tried to speak, he had to clear it twice before any words could pass his lips. His voice was low and hoarse with unspoken emotion. “Danke, Arya. A man will cherish it. Always.” Leaning over, he caught her lips with his, hoping his thanks and feelings were conveyed in the simple action. Her hand traced his jawline as the kiss deepened.

“You’re not making it easier to leave.” She muttered against his lips. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was leave him.

Finally he leaned back, deliberately placing his hands on his steering wheel to ground himself. “A man will be on his best behavior.”

“Best behavior?” She scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “I really hope I get to see you when you’re not. Sounds delicious.”

Unable to help himself, he swooped in for one last teasing kiss, sticking his tongue in her mouth then retreating before she could reciprocate.

She licked her lips, hoping to permanently fix his taste on them. “Alright, alright. I’m leaving and you cannot stop me.” She cried, opening the car door and sliding out. “Good-bye, Jaqen.”

“Auf Weidersehen, Schönes Mädchen.”

She smiled before closing the door and walking towards the apartment building. She knew once she reaching the building and waved before stepping inside, he would drive away. She had stamped her independence on him when he tried to keep walking her up and holding the door for her. It was sweet but annoying and unnecessarily and she told him so. She was a big girl and could walk herself in. Once inside, she watched him pull out and drive away. A feeling of trepidation filled her as to what this separation would mean for them. Now that they had kissed, she could not imagine kissing anyone else. How could anyone compare to him? _Gods, you’re a lovesick child. Shut up!_ She started towards her apartment, remembering the way his lips felt on hers and how his hands caressed her. Sending a silent prayer to the old gods, she asked selfishly that this time away would not divide them. _Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally got a kiss!!! thank you all for sticking with me until chapter 17 for the first kiss! I promise there is more to come. ;)
> 
> So a few author's notes-  
> *Let me start off saying I did not mean for the choking bit to be an example on domestic violence. Yes, choking/strangling is a huge part of domestic violence but there is typically a control/power element with the abuser. In my mind, Jaqen has gone through trauma from his childhood and things he was forced to do to become a Faceless Man. When he falls asleep on her, its a sign of how comfortable he is around her and his subconscious relaxes, finally trying to deal with the hidden trauma. I know a couple that the husband was ex-military and his wife learned early on in their marriage she had to be careful with how she woke him up because of his training and things he experienced, I very vaguely based this bit on that.   
> *Again, lets be honest. Jaqen is a Faceless Man/assassin... his examples of "healthy" relationships are probably poor but he's trying, bless his heart. <3  
> * At one point Jaqen says "Du bist Meine Herzallerliebste", I don't know how well this will translate on online translators but it roughly means "you're my heart's favorite" and I thought it was really sweet.   
> *So the next couple chapters are what happens during the Christmas break. There maybe some Gendry angst becuase who doesn't love jealous Gendry...that's your sneak peek. ;)
> 
> Again, thank you all for sticking with me and this couple. This story is not quite over yet, we still have a "dead man" to give the gift too and there maybe a few other people who get whats coming to them. *cough spoiler cough* Please please let me know what you think of this chapter. Did you like the angsty kiss or do you wish it had been more romantic? Comments and kudos are much appreciated! :D


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! I know this chapter is on the shorter side, I'm sorry. It wasn't going to split well into the next chapter so a short one this week. Bummer, but its a set up for the next two chapters...dun dun DUN!   
> As always, let me know what you think. Y'all are the best!

 

“Our flight into London is beginning its descent. If all passengers could please stay in their seats..”

Jaqen lifted the airline tray and secured it, ignoring the airline attendant’s instructions. The short two hour flight from Berlin had been thankfully uneventful. Still, Jaqen hated the cramped feeling on airplanes. He ran a hand over the page of the book in his lap- The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas. His lovely girl had paid attention somehow to the few books he kept in his room. He tugged the card from in-between the pages to look at it once more. The front had a simple Christmas tree on it and inside a quick hand-written greeting from her.

 

> Jaqen, I hope you have a great break all the way on your side of the world. Don’t get into too much trouble without me. It’s the Christmas season, otherwise I’d never say nice things to you, but thank you for everything you’ve done for me these past months. You’re a great friend and I may or may not miss you while you’re gone. The jury is still out on this. Text me if you can. I hope you like the book, I didn’t think you had this one in your collection. Merry Christmas, Arya
> 
>  

He slipped the card in-between the pages to bookmark his spot to pick up later. The book had been a lifesaver since his flight to London was delayed several hours due to the scheduled plane having mechanical problems last minute. While waiting in the terminal, he had found a seat along the window with a cup of coffee and started the book. Now leaning his head back against the headrest, he closed his eyes, feeling the plane’s continued descent. _Schönes Arya. Du wirst mir fehlen._ In the private moment he allowed his thoughts to dwell on her…and their kisses. He had kissed many women to further a mission in some way over the years or on the rare occasion to fulfill carnal pleasures. During those times he always kept a cool mind, always staying in control of himself, never letting his true self become entangled with those women. They were a means to an end, they were nothing. That could not be said about these last kisses he shared. He lost himself wholly to her; the electricity, the passion, the desperate need to have more of her was something he had never experienced before. It unnerved and enthralled him. He promised himself that when he returned, if she wanted no part of him then he would walk away, perhaps push to finish the mission sooner and return to the House. If she did want him, if she still felt as strongly for him as he felt for her…only the Many-Faced God could help him. Never before had anyone slipped into his mind, his black soul and planted themselves there. She tattooed herself upon him, an invisible mark with her kiss that sealed him as hers. She was young and vibrant, fierce and loyal. He was darkness and death incarnate. It was wrong. These feelings, these desires…she demanded honesty from him but how could he when he could not be honest with himself? He wanted her, needed her like he never knew was possible. The idea of another man holding her hand, kissing her full lips, running his hands through her hair set his blood boiling. This possessiveness, this protectiveness, if she gave him a name and asked for their death, he would gift it to her without question or guilt. She had become more to him… _Meine Herzallerliebste…my heart’s favorite…the only one I desire_. He worried what that meant.

Taking a deep breath, he caressed her face one more time in his mind’s eyes before letting her image disintegrate. His thoughts, emotions, feelings and wants seeped out of him, trying to be Faceless again. _You are No One. You need no one. You are No One. The mission is absolute. You are No One. You do not fear, you do not want. You are No One._

The assassin opened his eyes when the passengers began stepping off the plane. When his turn came, he slipped past the rows of seats, carrying his small suitcase with him. A quick smile and thanks to the flight crew and he walked into the terminal at Heathrow airport. Snaking by his fellow passengers, he started towards the exit, not needing to go to the baggage claim. His mind filtered through the sights, sounds and smells of those around him, gleaning what information on the far chance was useful but dismissing most of it. There was no need to rent a car, the House had ones the occupants shared so the assassin made his way towards where the taxis would be. He rounded the corner, stepping outside into the saturated air of London. Taking a deep breath, he let the air coat his lungs, so very different and familiar from where he had come from. Before he could hail a taxi, he spotted a red Mini Cooper further up the row of cars. Automatically his feet carried him towards it before his rational mind noted the familiar license plate. Without hesitation he strode over to it, ignoring the calls of cabbies and the flocks of those around him. His small suitcase landed in the open trunk before the assassin slid into the passenger seat. As soon as his door shut, the Mini Cooper shot forward, thrusting itself into traffic and zipping along London’s roads.

The German assassin glanced over at the pretty woman driving, her green eyes forward, white hands delicately handling the steering wheel. She glanced over at him, feeling his look then faced forward again, a hint of a smile on her glossy lips. Her long blonde hair was tied in a French braid, hanging over her right shoulder.

“A man could have found a ride, he did not mean to inconvenience you.”

“It’s no inconvenience. A woman has been told she needs to get out more.” Her lips turned up at her tease then flatlined once more. “Its good for you to be back, brother.”

“Yes, its good to be back, sister, even for a short time.”

“How is your mission? How many hearts have you broken?” She looked over, green eyes twinkling before returning her eyes to the road.

He smirked, imagining his sister’s true face and her true hazel eyes gleaming at him. Her brown skin and black hair from her Spanish descent was so polar opposite of the blonde hair, pale skin she wore now. Ever since she came to the House of Black and White, she refused to go into public without a false face or some form of disguise. He knew it was not vanity for her true face was pretty and would catch the eyes of men but a fear of being discovered. Even though he had known her for years, her past was known only to herself and possibly one or two older masters. Besides that, she infrequently left the House so her appearance at the airport was a shock.

“The mission is well. A man has broken no hearts that he is aware of but has heard some…intimate plans…a few have in regards to him.”

She chuckled, shaking her heard. Before he left, she argued with him insisting he choose a less-appealing false face then his own handsome true face.

“Any news of our brother?”

Her laughter died, her grip tightened a fraction on the steering wheel “His mission is almost complete…he should return in two weeks. Luckily that will limit the time for the chaos you two will cause.”

“Will you be picking him up?”

“Ha. He would find that as an invitation to join a woman’s bed…best not.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle for she had the truth of it. He enjoyed his English brother yet womanizer and flirt were not strong enough words to convey his antics and ensuing passions.

“Is there anything a woman can do to help before your return? It appears a haircut may be desired.”

A fleeting thought crossed his mind, a subconscious contemplation. Until she asked, he had not thought of seeking her help but now he wondered if it would help cover his tracks. “Perhaps…a man needs help finding information on a certain name, yet he wishes this information and search to remain unknown.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Who is this important person?”

“Will you help?”

“A woman owes you a debt. Consider us even then?”

He nodded, leaning his head back. Did he really want to do this? Personal wants and desires he checked at the airport, only Facelessness remained…mostly. A glimpse of gray eyes snuck into his mind before he could dash it away. What would the repercussions of his actions be? How could this knowledge change things? “His name is Petyr Baelish.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So I finally get to meet this Dany…” Arya bounced slightly on the balls of her feet, studying Jon. “Are you two dating yet?” She stood just inside the entrance to the movie theater with Jon and Gendry waiting. It was a week into the Christmas break and Jon had announced two hours prior that they were going to see a movie. Apparently Dany mentioned in their texting she wanted to see the latest Marvel movie and Jon said they should go…with a group. So here they were. Arya was having way too much fun watching Jon squirm under her questions but she knew she had to play nice, he had been friendly with Jaqen at Thanksgiving. She had to return the favor…mostly.

“No.”

“Just ask her out already, if she says no then you can move on.” Gendry tossed out, hands in the pockets of his coat.

Jon gave Gendry a meaningful, silent look before turning back to stare at the door. “What about you and that foreign guy, Fish? Is he coming over for Christmas too?”

“No, he had to go home for during break then he’ll be back for the Spring semester.” She could sense Gendry stiffen at the mention of Jaqen. “What’s your problem with him? He’s only ever been nice to you.”

Gendry shrugged. “I don’t like him.”

Arya punched Gendry because she did not know what else to do. She really wanted her family to like Jaqen, especially Jon and Gendry. Not that it mattered because she still planned on hanging out with him once he returned…and kissing him as much as she could. _Gods, those lips._ So many times her mind drifted to their last time together and those kisses. Thinking of it started a warm fire in her belly and she had to resist the urge to touch her lips with her fingers. Her mind could scarcely wrap around the idea that he liked her, wanted her. _Me! Arya Horseface! Girl that looks like she just rolled out of bed! Me!_ Yet he told her and she could read its truth. Late at night her mind would daydream about what would happen once he got back. Would they be boyfriend and girlfriend? Would they keep everything a secret? Her mind frequently puzzled over what his true occupation was. Did he work for the FBI? CIA? Something international? Gods, she wanted answers, it was enough to drive her mad. In desperation, she tried googling his name but nothing useful came up in the search engine. _Is Jaqen H’hgar even his real name?_ He promised her honesty now…could he even tell her that?

Her life suddenly felt like some movie where the girl accidentally falls in love with the spy next door and they have to fight in a blaze of bullets and blood to run away and be together. Which was dumb. _How did this happen to me?_

Soon their trio was joined by Grenn and Pyp, friends of Jon. They played soccer occasionally with the group in fall and spring and had been over to Jon and Gendry’s so Arya recognized them. Gendry and Pyp went to get snacks at the concessions before they needed to head over to the movie.

“Is that her?” Grenn asked, eyes towards the front door.

The two women, definitely not girls, were exotically beautiful for Minnesota. The one Arya assumed was Dany had very long white, almost silver, hair, pouty red lips and expensive taste in clothing. The other had a lovely chocolate-colored skin, afro hair, bright blue lips and huge gold hoops hanging from her ears.

“Hey Jon.” Dany said coming over, a confident smile and poised demeanor. Once she got close enough, Arya noticed her purple eyes.

Introductions happened quickly since the movie would be starting shortly. Dany’s best friend’s name was Missandei and they were both seniors. Arya walked behind Jon, Dany and Missandei, Gendry beside her, into the movie analyzing and working on making an impression. The seating arrangement was a bit odd but everyone seemed ok. Pyp sat on her left and Gendry on her right. It had become a silent tradition that during movies, Gendry and Arya would sit by each other and share popcorn and whisper throughout the movie. Her brothers and sister hated it, usually yelling at the two to shut up but the tradition continued.

“Have you seen this movie yet?” Pyp asked Arya, reclining his chair back.

“No, you?” The lights were beginning to dim and the curtains pulled back to reveal the whole movie screen.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good.”

“Why did you come then?”

“To see this girl Jon’s been talking about.” Pyp gave her a quick wink, hardly discernable in the dimness of the theater. “And Grenn promised we’d hit up a bar after.”

She smiled in return, wondering what Pyp thought of Dany. Physically she was very different from Jon’s last girlfriend, Ygritte. So far, Arya noticed they both were loud and opinionated and very willing to express it but Dany definitely handled it more tastefully then Ygritte ever could.

“What side do you want this on?” Gendry whisper as the previews started, holding a large fountain drink.

“Yours, I get the popcorn.” In her lap sat the large bucket of popcorn for her and Gendry, most likely their dinner. He put an arm over the back of her chair as he took his first handful. Arya wondered if Jaqen would want to go to the movies with her sometime? Would they hold hands while watching? Maybe make-out in the back row like those stupid couples in the movies? She could not see Jaqen doing that. Actually, she would rather watch the movie and make-out later with him…holding hands would be nice while in the theater though.

During the movie, Arya and Gendry whispered their own commentary, lost in a bubble of their own creation. Their hands coming into contact occasionally when reaching into the popcorn bucket at the same time. Gendry usually received a smack on his hand as Arya asserted her dominance over their shared food. He would chuckle and sometimes try and knock the popcorn out of her hand. If anyone noticed their whispering or playful banter, nothing was spoken to them. A few well-timed glances by Arya showed Jon leaning close to Dany, whom bounced back and forth between making comments to Missandei and Jon.

After the movie, the group decided to go to a bar a short walk away. Arya proclaimed she could be the designated driver but they quickly reminded her she would not even be able to walk through the door. It was decided that Gendry would head back to the house with her while Grenn and Pyp would drop Jon off later. Arya fought for Gendry to stay and hang out, she could drive herself back but he stubbornly refused. She felt bad and voiced her opinion only to result in Gendry picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder easily and carrying her to where the car was parked. A few amused looks were thrown their way as he carried her along the sidewalk but she did not care as she laughed and beat on his back demanding to be put down. At the car, he gallantly opened the door for her before setting her down and bowing his head.

“Your chariot, m’lady.”

“Stupid bull.” She punched his arm for good measure before slipping in and blasting the heat. Winter had definitely arrived. The cold air bit one’s lungs when inhaled and warm coats were a necessity. Arya adjusted the beanie hat on her head, before holding her hands over the car vents attempting to sputter our warmth.

Gendry settled in the driver’s seat then swiftly pulled into traffic, heading back to the house.

“What do you think of Dany?”

He shrugged.

“Oh come on. I can see the wheels turning in your head.” Teasing, she put a cold finger to his temple.

“Ah! Stop that!”

She laughed then leisurely slide the finger down his cheek, feeling the stubble growing. Usually he shaved every day. “Are you growing it out for No-Shave November because if you are then you’re a bit late.”

“No,” he ran a hand self-consciously over his jawline, “I felt lazy this morning.”

“Shocker.” Curious, she ran her thumb over his cheek and jawline facing her. Jon always shaved and Robb never let her feel his face. She found the sensation of the stubble pleasant under her finger. _I wonder what Jaqen would look like in a beard. Would it feel scratchy when we kissed?_ Gendry leaned ever so slightly into her touch as she continued to rub his cheek and jawline.  “It looks good on you…makes you look…rugged.”

He snorted. “Was that a compliment, m’lady?”

She rolled her eyes, bringing her hand back to her lap. “Definitely not.”

 “Sounded like one.”

“You need to get your ears checked.”

“My first real compliment given by Arya Stark, I’ll have to write about this moment in my diary.”

“Shut up!” She punched his shoulder, unable to suppress the laughter.

Back at the house, Arya raced upstairs to Jon’s bedroom to change. Her backpack lay on the twin blow-up mattress on the ground at the foot of Jon’s bed. Shireen was gone for the Christmas break, staying at her parents’ home. Arya did not mind sleeping at her apartment alone occasionally but tonight she was staying over with the guys. The mattress had been purchased last year after Arya spent the night for the first time. Jon demanded for her to sleep in his bed and he would sleep on the couch downstairs. She disagreed, not wanting Jon to give up his bed for the short couch she could just as easily sleep on. Gendry and Jon both ganged up on her, not allowing her to sleep on the couch and stating she would have to choose one of their rooms. The decision to buy the air mattress followed shortly so Jon and Gendry could both have their own beds and she would sleep on Jon’s room. Having changed into the yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt of Jon’s she found on the floor, she hurried back down to the living room.

Gendry waited for her on the couch, two bottle of Stella Artois on the floor. He flipped through the channels on the TV as she settled herself sipping her Stella. He picked the movie _300_ then laid down on the couch, his head in her lap. She smiled as he grabbed her hand and put it on his head.

“Demanding much?” One hand holding her forbidden, unless it was just her and Gendry, beer and the other playing with his hair, she relaxed. Really she was glad that Gendry had chosen to stay with her instead of going out. Although she would never say that aloud. She loved hanging out when it was her, Jon and Gendry but sometimes, it was a nice change to have one or the other all to herself. “You never said what you thought of Dany.”

“What do you think?”

“Nope, you answer first.”

He huffed, fidgeting slightly. “She’s ok. Seems a bit out of his league.”

“She’s really pretty.”

He shrugged.

“You had to noticed. Even Grenn and Pyp had a hard time keeping their eyes off her and her friend. Jon looked like he wanted to bash their heads in.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, not my type.”

“And what is your type?”

“Not her.”

“Gods, you’re incapable of a straight answer.” She poked him in the ribs causing him to jolt. In retribution, he squeezed above her knee causing her to squeal and shove him. He rolled off her and onto the floor but before she could make an escape, he grabbed her and pinned her onto the couch. A wrestling and tickling match ensued with wins and losses on both sides amongst squeals and protests. It ended with Gendry bear hugging Arya to his chest and rolling on the floor, holding her above him until she stopped trying to sneak attack him. They lay there panting with huge dorky smiles. Their faces inches apart. In that instant, something shifted from a light-hearted banter to an entirely different tension.

Gendry’s eyes drifted to her lips, his hands wandering from encircling her to resting on her hips. The tension was palatable, holding them both frozen in an intimate embrace. Arya found her gaze flitting to his lips and jawline that she had been admiring earlier. _I wonder what his lips would feel like?_ The thought scandalized her. _He’s like a brother, he only sees you as a little sister!_ Except the way his gaze locked onto her lips and his hands pressing her hips firmer against his did not feel very sibling-like.

“Arya…” He murmured faintly, tipping his head up to bring their faces even closer.

The front door opened and slammed shut, making them both jump at the sound. Footsteps pounded up the staircase leaving them alone again. The spell broken, Arya slipped off of Gendry, her heart pounding. She scooted so her back was against the couch. _What now? Oh gods, we almost kissed! I think…I wanted to kiss him._ Jaqen’s face came to mind, lips swollen from her kisses, hair messy from her hands running through it and his eyes, alive and wanting. The image felt like a stab to the gut. _How could I do this to him? After everything he said. We didn’t kiss though, its going to be fine!_

“I’m sorry, Arya…that…” He slowly sat up, eyes glued to her.

“It’s ok, let’s finish our movie.” She interrupted, getting up and sitting back down in her spot.

He nodded solemnly before rising and joining her, this time sitting up and keeping his distance. That bothered Arya. Whatever weird moment they just had, she wanted to ignore it. She wanted her brother back and their fun, easy friendship. It felt tense and awkward as if they both did not know how to react. They sat together yet miles apart for about twenty minutes before Arya attempted to cross the chasm separating them. Silently, she slid over and put her head on his shoulder, unsure yet wanting to fix this. Immediately, he placed his head on hers, not saying a word. They finished the movie that way before going off to bed separately. Their typical teasing and easy banter continued as they said good-night but there was an undercurrent of unspoken feelings.

Arya lay on the blow-up mattress staring at the ceiling wondering if this would change things between her and Gendry or if they would just ignore it. She sent a quick plea to the old gods for wisdom and to keep Jaqen safe so he could return to her. Surprisingly, sleep soon took away her worried and fears, her last image being of a smiling Jaqen saying good-bye.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope my interpretation of the Waif was ok. Yes we will be seeing her again. No she is not crazy.   
> What do you guys think about the almost kiss between Gendry and Arya? 
> 
> Sneak peek of next week's chapter:  
> ~“Oh, Arya. I’m so stupid, such a stupid girl.” Tears welled up in her beautiful blue eyes, threatening to spill over.   
> “Sansa, you had better tell me whose ass I need to kick.”  
> That caused a sad laugh. “You know, you were right all along about him. I was so stupid, still believing in knights and fair maidens. You saw it though, right from the beginning.”~


	19. Chapter 19

 

Arya sat in the family’s Cadillac, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel. She hated dealing with traffic at the Minneapolis-St. Paul international airport. Sansa was taking forever to load her luggage into the trunk and the dirty looks thrown their way from the other cars around them was driving Arya crazy. _Maybe she shouldn’t pack so damn much. Gods, its not like she doesn’t have clothes and stuff here._ Normally her mother would pick up Sansa but an emergency happened at the venue for an event she had been planning for tomorrow. Old Nan was busy taking Rickon to an appointment. Everyone knew better than to ask Jon, Sansa tolerated him slightly better than their mother did. Thus Arya sat waiting, not-very-patiently, for her sister to get in the stupid car so they could escape the stupid traffic knowing she would have to listen to her sister rant about her stupid school and stupid boyfriend. _Why did I get up this morning?_

Finally Sansa slid into the passenger seat and Arya zoomed off, weaving through traffic trying to escape the airport. Immediately Sansa turned the radio on and neither sister said a word to each other, which honestly was quite alright with Arya. Its not that she hated her sister…they just were very different and did not get along. They both seemed to have come to terms with that a long time ago and tolerated each other because they were family. She found it odd that Sansa kept her sunglasses on the whole ride, it was cloudy out so there was not a glare from the snow. _Whatever, must have been a rough flight._ They made it back to their family’s house in record time, Arya thanked the old gods the police had not been around to witness her speeding. She desperately wanted to get out of the car and go play video games with Bran.

“Arya…I…” Sansa sputtered, turning to look at her sister.

Arya closed the car door, confused by Sansa’s attempt at conversing. Sansa had made no attempt to get out of the car, even though they were parked in the garage. Her hands fiddled with the zipper on her puffy, white coat.

“I know we haven’t always gotten along…”

Arya snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

“But I hope…I mean…I need…”

“Sansa, what’s going on? Are you trying to have a sentimental, bonding moment? Are you feeling ok?”

Sansa’s red, full lips turned up slightly at Arya’s teasing but quickly fell. A moment’s hesitation then she took a deep breath. “I need your help.”

“Um…ok.”

Slowly Sansa turned completely to face her sister before removing her sunglasses. Arya gasped. The skin around Sansa’s right eye was a sickly yellow with a bit of red and purple beneath the eye.

“What in seven hells happened?”

“Oh, Arya. I’m so stupid, such a stupid girl.” Tears welled up in her beautiful blue eyes, threatening to spill over.

“Sansa, you had better tell me whose ass I need to kick.”

That caused a sad laugh. “You know, you were right all along about him. I was so stupid, still believing in knights and fair maidens. You saw it though, right from the beginning.”

A sad realization sunk into the pit of Arya’s stomach, it felt hard to swallow and she could not tear her eyes away from her abused sister. “This isn’t the first time Joffrey’s hit you.”

“No…”

Arya took a deep breath. Every part of her wanted to grab Jon and Gendry, maybe Robb too, and drive down to Chicago to make Joffrey regret ever laying a hand on Sansa. She doubted that’s what Sansa needed to hear in this moment though. By the looks of it, Sansa needed somewhere private to cry and maybe something strong to drink. “How can I help?”

“I don’t want anyone to know. I just need you to help make sure I can cover it up with make-up.”

“Sure…please tell me you’ve broken up with him.”

A mournful sigh slipped from her, her eyes refusing to meet Arya’s.

“Seriously?! You can’t possibly want to stay with him!”

“No, I don’t. But its not that easy to escape.”

Arya bit her lip. She had never seen Sansa look so distraught, so young and weak. The two sisters may not have gotten along but she was still a Stark and Arya would stand up for her. “Fine, but we’re having this discussion later. Maybe you can transfer here over the break somehow. Mom has to have connections.”

That very thought seemed to breath life into her. “You think so?”

“We’ll ask. You aren’t going back to Chicago.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t get all sentimental on me now. I’m going to kill that son of a bitch. Come on, let’s get you inside.”

 

*****

 

There is something serene and beautiful after a snowfall. The air has a hush to it. Sounds are muffled creating the illusion of stillness. A renewed white world lay before. The barren, deciduous trees are dark against the background as the only green found are from the multitude of pine trees swaying in the breeze. Each intake of breath sends ice to the lungs, releasing a puff of white with every exhale. It can be almost blinding to wander amongst the snow drifts with the full sun beaming making the snow crystals sparkle and reflect its light.

The crunching snow under her boots was the only sound Arya heard as she walked in the backyard. The lake behind the house had finally frozen over and she absent-mindedly wondered how long until the first ice houses would be set up. The dogs scurried around her, trudging through the fresh, deep snow. Starting yesterday, Christmas Eve, it had begun snowing and finally stopped midday today, dropping ten inches in total. Her mother initially planned for a large Christmas dinner but when the storm rolled in, she canceled and only invited a few people who lived close by. Not that Arya was upset about that. It meant she did not have to dress up. _Thank the gods!_ The morning had been relaxed with everyone slowly waking up and gift opening happening after brunch. Her mother had given her a small sewing and stitching kit. Bran, saying from Rickon too, bought her the latest Stephen King. Sansa gave her an elegant dress, saying she needed at least one on hand instead of borrowing Shireen’s. After lunch, Jon, Gendry and Sandor arrived, quickly making their way to the basement once Arya showed them the new Call of Duty game she bought for them…well, Jon really. Jon surprised her by giving her a boot knife for her present. It was a Cold Steel Counter Tac II Fixed Blade that was about seven inches long and wickedly sharp. It came in a sheath otherwise she worried she would accidently cut herself while trying to wear it. He made sure to impress upon her that this was a weapon and not a toy. He made her promise to keep it hidden so her mother would not find it and forever ban Jon from seeing her. Arya told him she would say Jon bought her a ‘needle’ for her to practice with. They laughed and went to the basement together. Theon and Robb appeared an hour later, Talisa having been called into the hospital she worked at on an emergency.

 

“Come on guys, let’s go inside.” Arya called to the dogs, deciding they had spent enough time outside. Although she wore gloves, her fingers were beginning to get cold; a good sign they had been out long enough. Looking out over the frozen lake, she wondered what Jaqen was doing for Christmas. She had almost text him on a few occasions. It bothered her that she had not heard from him yet, which was petty and childish. It had been two weeks since she saw him and that was the last she had heard from him. _Maybe its not safe to talk to me? He said he would try and text._ Patience was not her greatest virtue.

Once inside she dried the dogs then quickly took off her snow-pants, coat, hat and gloves. Underneath she wore a comfy pair of skinny jeans and oversized sweater. Her mother had made a comment under her breath but did not force Arya to change.

“Hey Arya.” Sansa came around the corner then giggled once she caught sight of her sister. “Your hair looks terrible. Hold still.” Before Arya could argue, Sansa released her hair from the bun it had been in then quickly redid the bun. Arya held still, grumbling only slightly. A week ago she would have bitten off Sansa’s head for touching her hair without permission…now she tolerated it because of their weird newly formed bond. After their discussion in the car, Arya spent more time purposely around her sister than she thought she had for the past year. She helped make sure the discoloration around Sansa’s eye was covered early in the morning and throughout the day when she needed to touch it up. Helping people through crying had never been her strongest suit but she sat quietly while Sansa whispered about the cruelty of Joffrey and their supposed blissful relationship. Hearing it all and seeing the evidence on Sansa made Arya furious. _I wonder if Jaqen would go with me to Chicago to kill him? He would probably have a few tips._ Late last night, Sansa suddenly grabbed Arya’s hand while she was playing video games with Bran and Rickon. Before Arya would protest, Sansa just whispered ‘I’m ready’ and Arya followed happily. Sitting on the end of Sansa’s bed, she listened silently and tried to give moral support as her sister Facetimed her boyfriend and quickly broke up with him. Before he could do more than sputter in shock, she ended the call and put her phone on airplane mode. Arya was not sure if she had ever appreciated nor seen her sister more beautiful than in that moment. Eyes determined, clenched jaw, slowly breathing before Sansa broke out laughing in relief. Others had noticed their interactions being more friendly than the usual coldness they showed one another but only their Mother commented on it. Arya still was not sure how she felt about it, having spent her whole life disliking her sister. It felt weird and good and confusing.

“Are you going to the basement?” Sansa asked, once she finished Arya’s hair.

“Yeah. Robb owes me a game.”

“If it’s video games, you’ll win. If it’s pool, he’s going to win.”

“Hey! I’m getting better!”

“If you say so…can I join? I haven’t turned my phone off airplane mode…do you want to see how pissed Joffrey is with me?”

Arya nodded, “ok.” It made more sense for them to go somewhere alone but maybe she needed to be around people who cared for her. Even though she had not always been the nicest to the guys, it was understood they would kick the ass of anyone who hurt her. They were Starks. The pack looks out for each other. They descended into the basement together, the dogs rushing ahead of them. Bran was playing a video game against Robb and Theon. Jon and Gendry shot pool while Sandor watched from the couch next to the pool table. Surprising Arya even more, Sansa walked over to where Sandor sat and dropped prettily onto the couch next to him. Arya sat on her other side, curious.

“Hey Arya! You left your phone over here!” Theon called over, glancing her way as someone paused the game.

“Toss it over!”

Theon stood up, her phone in hand, smirking at her. “On one condition…who is calling you ‘beautiful girl’ in German?”

Arya’s jaw dropped for a moment before she lunged at him. His initial laughing transformed into a cry of surprise and pain as she punched and kicked him repeatedly until he released her phone.  She snatched her phone from his hand and stormed back over to the couch.

“What the hell was that? Ouch, gods! Who taught you to hit like that? I’m going to have bruises!” Theon whined.

“That’s what you get for reading my texts.” Arya sat back down next to Sansa, glaring at Theon.

“Hey, I read it but Robb translated it.”

Arya turned her glare to Robb, watching the interaction from a couch, a safe distance away. He shrugged, unaffected by his sister’s explosive violence. “I’ll get you later.” Sure enough, she turned the screen on and a new text showed. It was from an unknown number but she barely took note of that.

 **-Frohe Weihnachten, Schöne Mädchen**.

Everyone was watching her, so she tried to mask the smile that threatened to emerge. Inside her heart soared that he finally text her! Quickly she replied, biting her bottom lip.

**-Merry Christmas, Herr H’ghar.**

“Oh…its that guy you brought to Thanksgiving. Jack or something?” Sansa smiled slyly, tapping her phone on her leg. “Does he always call you ‘beautiful girl’?”

With all the honestly Sansa had given Arya, she felt somewhat obligated to reciprocate it…just a little. “Lovely…he calls me lovely girl.” She whispered so only Sansa could hear.

“Are you dating?” Jon asked, twirling the pool stick between his hands but keeping his gaze on her.

“I’m not talking about this. The name is a joke.” She turned to her sister. “We came down here for you, remember?”

“But this is more fun.” Sansa teased but unlocked her phone and turned it off airplane mode.

Arya rolled her eyes then almost jumped when her phone vibrated in her hand. The screen lit up with a new text.

**-Thank you for the present. I will have something for you upon my return.**

**-I don’t need anything. I’m just ready for you to come back. How else can I make use of the new punching bag?**

**-A man foolishly thought his lovely girl missed him as much as he missed her. A man’s heart is broken.**

**-I have missed you. Sometimes. Is this one of those cases, kiss it and that’ll make it better?**

**-A kiss would suffice, admittedly, the preferred location of said kiss would be on the lips…a lovely girl has a wicked tongue that a man wishes to taste again.**

Arya blushed, she knew it, could feel the heat on her cheeks. Unfortunately that must have given her away.

“Oh gods, Arya…” Sansa’s shocked expression turned into an impish grin. “I thought you said you’re just friends.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder!”

“Is he a great kisser? Jeyne thought so.”

“Seven hells!” Arya flung herself up and off the couch but Sansa grabbed her arm and held her firmly.

“Fine, fine. I’m done. You said you’d help.”

Arya slowly sat back down, glaring at her sister.

“You better text him back or he’ll be worried.”

“Don’t look.” She muttered before pulling up her and Jaqen’s conversation.

**-I’m sure we can work out some kind of arrangement. When will you be back?**

**-Two weeks.**

**-Soon as you land, I expect a text or you’ll suffer my wrath.**

**-As you wish. A man must go. Stay safe and well, lovely Arya.**

**-Auf Wiedersehen, Jaqen.**

“Right, his name is Jaqen.”

“Sansa! Gods, you’re impossible!” Arya jumped up, slipping her phone in her back pocket. Before she could make her escape, Jon snagged her wrist.

“Come on, play a game with me.”

She huffed but obliged, grabbing a pool stick from the rack as Gendry set up the cue ball to begin the game. Jon was slightly better than her so the odds turned quickly in his favor but she ruthlessly tried to beat him. In between her shots, her gaze shifted from subtly watching Gendry to watching Sansa. Gendry stood off to the side, leaning against the wall, with a pool stick in hand and a grimace on his face. He watched the game but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. Sansa seemed to desperately try and stay in the here and now as her phone continued to buzz with each new text received. One hand over her mouth, her eyes watery, she looked like she considered throwing her phone across the room. Arya could only imagine the texts Joffrey had sent, furious with Sansa for breaking up with him. It was probably best she did not read them because they would certainly not diminish her desire to kill him.

Suddenly Sansa’s phone began to ring. She looked up at Arya in horror.

“You don’t have to answer it. If you do, just tell him to never call you again.” Arya calmly stated, her body tense.

Sansa nodded then answered, bringing the phone to her ear. “Joffrey, we’re done…”

From the several feet away Arya stood, she could almost clearly understand Joffrey’s screaming and obscenities, drowning out Sansa’s voice. Before Arya could help her sister out, Sandor took the phone from Sansa’s hand.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” He growled out then ended the call. Not five seconds later, her phone rang again. Sansa watched warily as Sandor answered. “Call this number again and I swear I’ll find you and bleed you dry. Got it, asshole?” Before Joffrey could utter a reply, Sandor hung up. He gingerly handed back Sansa’s phone as she wide-eyed stared at him. “You deserve better than that asshole.”

Sansa nodded as if in a dream then surprised the whole damn planet as she swiftly grabbed Sandor’s face and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” She murmured, settling herself further into the couch beside him.

No one moved for a long moment, in shock by Sandor’s words and Sansa’s reaction. To only intensify the moment, Sansa’s phone rang for a third time. She sighed and tossed it onto the seat next to her. “I’m not getting it.”

Arya smiled a toothy grin as she looked at Sandor. “Want to take a road trip to Chicago? I’ll help dispose of his body.”

“No, if anyone gets to kill him, its me.” Sansa retorted, brushing her fingers through her hair lazily.

“Who are you guys killing?” Robb asked, getting up and coming over to where the pool table was.

“Sansa broke up with Joffrey.” Arya answered, eyeing up her next shot.

Robb snorted. “About time, he’s a dick.”

Sansa smirked. “A very small one.”

 

*****

 

Soon the call for dinner came with Rickon running down the stairs screaming then turning around and running back up like in some bad horror movie. Everyone made their way up the stairs, the mood light and cheery. Arya put her hand on Gendry’s shoulder before he walked by her. He froze, eyes staring ahead. Jon stopped at the bottom of the stairs, a confused look on his face.

“We’ll be there in a second.” Arya said. She waited until she heard Jon reach the top of the stairs before turning her gaze on Gendry. “What’s going on?”

“Nothin’.”

“You look like you sucked on a lemon.”

He sighed then seemed to deflate, shoulders slumping and hung his head. They had not spoken of their interaction the night they came back from the movie…the almost kiss. Both had chosen to ignore it and Arya wondered if they would come to regret that. She still was not sure how she felt about it.

“It’s nothing.” He finally answered, not looking at her. “I’ve just got some stuff on my mind and now listening to Theon, I’ve got a headache.”

She smiled at his attempt at humor. “Theon can do that.” Before he could argue, she moved closer and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a comforting hug. Gendry only hesitated a moment before practically crushing her against him; his face buried in the corner of her neck and shoulder. Wondering what could distress him so, she held him, hoping to bleed some comfort into him. Whatever was going on, she cared for him. He was her friend, her brother, and he deserved happiness. Eventually they released each other and she stepped back.

“Better?”

He smiled.

“Good, that’s your one hug of the year you get from me so you have to wait another year before you get another.”

“What if I just take one?” He grabbed her, pressing her flush against him and spinning them. She tried to hit and kick him but she was laughing too hard for it to be truly effective. When he finally set her down, she was forced to brace herself against him while her equilibrium stabilized.

“Come on, stupid bull. We better get upstairs before there isn’t any food left for us.”

“As m’lady commands.”

Giving him a swift punch to the arm, she raced upstairs with him lumbering behind her.

 

 

This dinner was a mild affair compared to most of Catelyn Stark’s Christmas dinner events. Besides the Stark children and their cohorts, the other persons present were Petyr Baelish, along with Uncle Jon Arryn, Aunt Lysa and their son, Robin. Most of the seats were filled when Arya and Gendry snuck up from the basement but she managed to grab a seat between Robb and Jon and as far away from Aunt Lysa as possible. In Arya’s opinion, her mother’s younger sister was a basket case and emotionally unstable, and made worse with her excessively needy, bratty son. Arya liked Aunt Lysa’s husband, Jon Arryn; he was an older man, stout and stoic but a kind heart. After everyone settled, Catelyn took her seat at the head of the long table everyone was crammed around. Arya watched in growing horror and rage as Petyr slinked along the table to take the empty seat on the other end of the table. All prior talking stilled as Petyr sat down casually, a knowing smile on his face. If the earth opened up beneath Petyr and swallowed him whole right now, Arya silently swore to the old gods she would quit university and serve them. Her prayer remained unanswered. Ever since her father’s death, his seat had always been left vacant to remember him and honor his memory still joining them. Arya’s glare turned to her mother, hoping she would force him to find a new seat. Robb and Jon, next to her, both were stiff as a board and she could see Robb’s clenched fists. Catelyn hesitated a moment then gave a soft smile of acceptance before turning to Sansa next to her and starting a conversation.

Arya chose to not engage in conversation, continuing to glare at Baelish with every drop of hate evident in her small body. On the other hand, she kept an eye on Sansa and Sandor’s interactions while they sat by one another. The two of them spoke frequently in hushed tones, a few times causing her to giggle. If she had not witnessed Sandor standing up for Sansa and Sansa’s reactions, she would have thought someone had snatched Sansa’s body and was trying terribly to impersonate her. On the other hand it was pleasing to see Sansa happy without it being over something petty. Soon as it was socially acceptable, Arya took her leave and fled back to the basement. The image of Baelish sitting in her father’s chair felt burned into her soul. Yes it had been four years but clearly that was enough time for her mother to replace him. _Seven hells! I need Jaqen’s punching bag…Jaqen would know what to do._

The others trickled down as time passed. Arya got her game against Robb, challenging him in Call of Duty and smoked him. When Sansa came down, she immediately grabbed Arya and pulled her aside.

“Mother thinks she may have some connections to try and get me transferred here…or I could just take a semester off and work with her.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah, I’ll have to call the university and cancel my enrollment on Monday…if anyone is even there. Gods, what do I tell Jeyne?”

“I think she’d understand, if not I’ll kill her too.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “You can’t go around threatening to kill everyone.”

Arya shrugged, smiling. “Its faster than trying to negotiate.”

“You’re hopeless.”

They moved back to join the guys and dogs clustered around the TV. The movie _Elf_ was chosen after much arguing and insulting. The fourth couch was dragged over to accommodate everyone. Arya relaxed onto the blue couch, fleece blanket tucked around her as the movie began. Gendry sat beside her so they could whisper throughout the movie. The last time she sat on this couch with someone beside her, it was Jaqen. Reflecting on it, she realized with both guys there was a easy, fun friendship with very different undercurrent of tension. With Jaqen, she wanted to just pull him against her until their bodies morphed into one. She wanted to know his fears, his joys, and the secrets he hid from her. With Gendry, it was best friends who suddenly realized they were flirting with the line of wanting more. He was a constant in her life that she wanted, but more?

*****

 

The movie was winding down when a deep, boisterous and booming voice resounded before heavy footfalls started down the stairs. Arya froze a split second, wide-eyed looking at Gendry who looked just as concerned.

“Spare room, go! We’ll tell him you’re outside.” Jon whispered quickly, getting up from his seat to replace them on the couch. Gendry grabbed Arya’s hand and they ran down one of the hallways to the second door, a spare bedroom. The lights were off in the room and hallway so after Gendry quietly shut the door, they knew Robert Baratheon had not witnessed their escape.

“I didn’t think he was coming.” Gendry muttered, slipping down the door to sit against it on the floor.

Arya could hear Robert’s booming voice talking to those on the couches. She wondered if it was just her imagination that his voice sounded slightly slurred already. “He only comes for the Cognac that Mother keeps on hand, and to reminisce about Father.” Following Gendry’s example, she slid down the wall to sit beside him in the dark. The curtain were only half-drawn over the small window so some moonlight spilled in.

“How long do you think he’ll be down here?”

Gendry shifted to stretch out his legs. “Long enough until Robb offers to drive him home.”

Arya smiled thinking about poor Robb having to constantly tend to his father’s friend and now his business partner who spent more time drunk and whoring than actually running his business. Once Robert and Cercei Lannister’s divorce was finalized, Robert took a turn for the doesn’t-give-a-shit-anymore. Robert typically came over for holidays but after Ned’s death, Catelyn stopped openly inviting him. That did not stop Robert from coming over anyway, drinking entirely too much, and making a fool of himself. He had always been a crass man but with copious amounts of alcohol in his blood, whatever small verbal filter he had vanished. A few times recently he had made comments when he saw Gendry about him being a fine-looking boy and how he should have had a son like Gendry. Anyone with eyes could see the awkward, physical similarities between the two as Gendry got older. It was never confirmed but there was suspicions of Gendry being Robert’s bastard. He tried to stay away from Robert and out of his sight whenever possible.

Arya, on the other hand, hid because of the lascivious, lecherous looks Robert had begun to give her as she got older. Robert had been engaged to Arya’s aunt, Lyanna, when they were younger but Lyanna broke it off. Everyone said Arya was the spitting image of Lyanna, even though she had died before Arya was born. Even during Robert’s marriage to Cercei, it was obvious Robert was still on love with his memories of Lyanna. Arya tried to stay out of his view but could not help the way her skin crawled when his eyes followed her or how badly she wanted to pluck those eyes out. Last year had been the final straw of her tolerance, and her brothers, with his looks. He was clearly drunk and when she walked by, trying to get away from her Aunt Lysa, Robert had reached out and pulled her onto his lap, placing his hands on her hips. Catelyn yelled at Robert while Robb, Gendry and Jon looked like they were ready to beat Robert bloody. Robert boisterous laughed and allowed her to get up but not before running a hand down her hip and quickly over her ass. So Arya figured she was allowed to touch him back. Before her mother would protest, Arya slapped Robert across the face, leaving a fantastic handprint blooming on his cheek before stalking away. If she saw Robert in the afterlife, it would be too soon.

She could still heat Robert’s booming voice asking Jon about his plans for after graduation. Resting her head on her bent knees in front of her, she turned her head to watch Gendry. “So…what do you think of Sansa and Sandor?”

“What about them?”

“Have you noticed their…interactions tonight?”

He looked at her, cocking an eyebrow. “You talking about the kiss?”

“And how much they’ve been talking.”

He squinted his eyes as if trying to recall a specific moment. “Um…I guess. I don’t know.”

“You’re so unobservant.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh yes, and you’re the queen of observations.”

She elbowed him in the ribs.

“Or maybe you’re just waiting to be crowned the queen of love and beauty by some sappy, fair knight.”

“Oh gods, please go ahead and put me out of my misery if I EVER want that!”

“As m’lady commands…even though you would look beautiful with a crown of flowers.”

“Ugh!” She turned to punch him but he grabbed her hands.

“Shhh. He’ll hear.” They both stilled to see if her outburst caused their presence to be known but they only heard Robert’s resounding laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Jon told you he put in an application at The Wall for a job after graduation?”

Arya just nodded suddenly very aware of how close she was to Gendry. He still held her hands in his, rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs. She sat on her knees, facing him now after her outburst. “They would be stupid not to take him. Have you decided anything yet?”

He softly sighed, his gaze on their hands. “No…I just…I don’t want to go far. I’m hoping I can stay nearby. Maybe get a job at the oil refinery in Rosemount.”

“You’ll always have a place here, you know that, right? Jon, me and all us Starks, we are your family.” They were the closest thing Gendry had ever come to a true family. His foster home had kicked him out as soon as he turned eighteen and a legal adult.

“No, if I stay, you’d be my lady.” His eyes met hers, deep blue as the deepest parts of the Great Lakes and yearning. As Arya’s mind processed what he meant, he promptly leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. They were soft and gentle, a kiss of hesitancy and uncertainty but a question of more underneath. Just as swiftly, he leaned back just enough so she could feel his breath on her lips. They sat that way for several heartbeats then Gendry leaned towards her again.

Before his lips could meet hers again, she ripped her hands out of his and leapt to her feet. She backed away and turned to face the window, biting her lip. _What have I done? He kissed you! Yet I kissed him back, didn’t I?_ Her mind felt like a whirlwind of flame, every thought scorching her. _You can never go back to just being just friends after this. You know he wants more. Oh Jaqen! I’m sorry. Why didn’t I push Gendry away? Did I want him to kiss me?_ This kiss was so different than hers with Jaqen, a prime example of the differences in the two men. Gendry’s had been sweet and innocent. Jaqen’s kisses had been passionate and her undoing. A childish part of her mind teased her how never in her life had she imagined two guys fighting for her affection.

“Arya…”

She could hear Gendry get up and come to stand behind her, normally a comforting presence but now she tensed.

“Arya, talk to me.” He grabbed her shoulders to turn her around but she stepped out of his reach.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she turned to face him, both bathed in moonlight streaming through the window. “I can’t, Gendry, I’m sorry.”

“Do you not feel this way about me?”

She stared at the floor.

“Or is it that German douche-bag you seem to like so much?”

“Don’t call him that!”

“Oh? So it is him.” His prior, soft voice took a hardened tone. “What’s so great about him anyway? Gods, you’ve only known him for a few months, right?”

Arya clenched her fists, keeping her eyes down.

“No? Is he a great kisser like Sansa said? Cause apparently you’ve kissed him. Did you let him fuck you too?!”

“SHUT UP!” Arya raised her eyes to meet his, both glaring and shooting flames at one another. “It’s none of your damn business if I kiss him or fuck him!”

Gendry took a step towards her, his voice rising to match her own. “The hell its my business. He’s too old for you and you hardly know him!”

“That’s what you’d like to think!” She didn’t care that they were yelling at one another and everyone probably in the basement could hear them. “You’re just jealous of him!”

“Jealous? Ha! Why would I be jealous of him? What has he done that I can’t? He’s just a pretty-boy prick that thinks because he’s not from around here that he can hook up with whoever he wants then go back to his motherland!”

“He saved me from Ramsay!” The words felt so ultimate, so condemning. Only her and Jaqen knew the whole truth of that awful night. “He kept me from being raped and taught me to protect myself! Where were you? What have you done to help?”

He stood there mutely, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

She should have stopped there, she should have kept her mouth shut but her blood was boiling and she missed Jaqen. “Yes, you have nothing to be jealous of. Its not like Jaqen isn’t incredibly smart and funny and oh gods can he kiss like it should be illegal but no, of course there’s no competition! You’ve just been a complete ass to him. So I’m going to tell you again to stay the hell out of my business because it sure as hell doesn’t involve you!”

 Like a hurricane, she stormed out of the room, leaving a devastated Gendry behind her. Everyone in the basement area sat bug-eyed and barely breathing. Ignoring them, she grabbed her phone from the floor next to the blue couch and continued her rampage upstairs to her room. Nymeria followed behind her mistress hesitantly. Once up the two flights of stairs, she slammed her bedroom door closed and threw herself onto her bed, burrowing her face into her pillow. _Who the hell does Gendry think he is to say those things when Jaqen had only ever been nice to him?_ Frustrated, she sat up and puncher her pillow a few times but it did nothing to ebb her anger. She laid there for several minutes trying to force the anger and tension to dissipate out of her. A quiet huff next to the bed alerted Arya to a concerned four-legged friend.

“Come on, girl.” Arya slid over as Nymeria jumped up and curled next to her. She pressed her face into Nymeria’s black hair. Never before had she and Gendry really fought. They got along too well, were too close for a stupid fight to affect them. This time was different and she wondered if she had just lost a friend. She rolled onto her back wishing this Christmas break was over already.

*****

 

Wind battered against her window, the floor creaked and the old gods refused to give Arya’s mind a moment of peace for sleep to overtake her. Picking up her phone next to her, she glanced at the time again. Two in the morning. Hours had flown by without the relief of sleep to save her from her thoughts. Three times someone had come to her door, trying to get in and calling her name. She ignored them. Her conflicting thoughts circled her like vultures over a fresh carcass. That kiss…the feel of Gendry’s lips upon hers haunted her. _Why did he have to ruin it? We were best friends and now…_ with every ounce of her being, she wished she could go back and stop it. It was a mistake to let it happen and now she as unsure of where the pieces of their friendship would land. In her core, she knew if she had just told Gendry she was not ready or after university maybe they could try, he would have graciously backed off and no one else would have been the wiser. No…he had to insult Jaqen and his influence on her then they had to get into a yelling match for everyone to hear.

In a spontaneous moment, Arya threw off her covers and quietly opened her door. Sneaking down to Sansa’s room two doors down, she ever so slowly and softly opened her door. _If I had to listen to Sansa for hours, she can take a turn and listen to me._ She expected Sansa to be sleeping deeply and she would have to shake her to wake up. Unfortunately that was not the sight her eye beheld.

A topless Sansa, back turned to Arya, sat on her haunches. A large pair of hands traveled up her sides to cup her breasts.

“Oh shit.” Arya whispered but it was enough to shift the stillness of the room.

Sansa looked over her shoulder at her as a man sat up, moving from underneath her. It did not take more than a millisecond for Arya to notice the large frame and hairy chest of the man to realize it was Sandor.

Quickly Arya shut the door and ran back to her room. Scaring Nymeria in her haste, she dove onto her bed and pulled the covers up as if she was sleeping. It was stupid and childish. On the other hand, she desperately wanted some bleach to cleanse the image of those two in Sansa’s bed out of her mind. _Gods, why did I have to see that? Why wasn’t the door locked?_

 

Several minutes later Arya’s door opened and a shadow slipped inside, coming to the side of her bed.

“Scoot over.” Sansa hissed, lifting up the covers and sliding into the bed beside Arya.

“Why wasn’t your door locked?”

“I guess I didn’t think someone else was going to come visit me.”

Arya grumbled sarcastically. “Well sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s fine, we were just starting round two…”

“Ah!” Arya covered her ears. “I don’t want to know that. Seven hells!”

“You know what they say about guys with big feet…I’m happy to announce its true.”

“Oh for…I still don’t want to hear this!”

Sansa laughed and Arya found herself smiling stupidly.

“So…when did this happen?” Arya rolled onto her side, mirroring Sansa. It felt like they were middle-school girls conspiring about their crushes late at night at a sleep-over. Something Arya had never done.

“Sometime after you ran out of the basement like a bat out of hell. We went upstairs to grab some drinks, he said something sweet and I kissed him… then I may have told him which room was mine so we could ‘chat’ later.”

“I hope you’re not planning on using him for a rebound guy. You did just break up with Joffrey.”

Sansa sighed. “I know, that’s not what I want. I haven’t loved Joffrey for a long time now and after what Sandor did…its nice to be appreciated and wanted, not just a trophy to show off.”

“Have you two talked about this?”

“Not yet, our lips were busy elsewhere.”

“Oh gods, please stop. He’s my friend and I don’t want those images in my head.”

“Ok ok. What was it you came into my room for? Does it have to do anything with you and Gendry? I’ve never seen him so sullen and moody before. He didn’t leave the room for about twenty minutes after you left.”

Arya rolled onto her back, drawing her hands over her face. “Not a word to anyone.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t a girl scout.”

“Whatever. What happened?”

Arya rolled back over to look at her sister. “He kissed me.”

Sansa’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. Can’t say I’m completely surprised but yeah…was he a bad kisser?”

“Its not that. I just…I’m sorta with Jaqen. Well once he comes back we were going to decide. Oh Sans, I really like Jaqen. I’ve never…he’s such…what is wrong with me?” She balled her fists up and pushed them against her eyes. She had never been the emotional one, always knew what she wanted and never lacked for words. In this moment, her mind rebelled on formulating a clear, coherent sentence to express how she felt.

“Arya, who do you want? Because it sounds like you want to be with Jaqen and if the looks Jaqen was giving you at Thanksgiving were any indication of his feelings for you, he wants to be with you too. Gendry has had years to say something to you and yes, he HAS liked you for that long. You’re just too oblivious to see it.” Sansa slowly sat up. “Gendry can suck it and deal with the consequences. He’s a big, moody boy but he’ll live. Whenever you think about Jaqen your face lights up…clearly he makes you happy. Now, you think about that. I’m going back to my bed where Sandor is hopefully still waiting.”

Arya laughed. “Still don’t want to know. But hey, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad we’re friends now, even though I’d never let one of my friends dress as distastefully as you but you’re hopeless.”

“Thanks for ruining that moment we just had.”

Sansa chuckled as she swept out of Arya’s room like a pleasant dream. Arya snuggled back down under the covers, pulling Jaqen’s sweater she wore, up over her nose. She sent a silent prayer to the old gods to keep him safe and bring him back to her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! In my mind, this was the chapter about Arya's time over Christmas break (obviously having focused on Christmas itself). The next chapter with be about Jaqen's time over Christmas break.  
> Side note- by calling the break between the fall and spring semesters "Christmas break", I am not trying to push a religious agenda. That's just what i'm used to hearing it being called. I guess it could be winter break.  
> As always, kudos and comments are sooo appreciated. I've hit a major writer's block this week so its been interesting. 
> 
>  
> 
> Sneak peek for next week:  
> "Is a man ready for his time to be done in the United States of America or will he wish to linger there?"  
> He kept his eyes forward, his countenance neutral as his mind wrestled with his Master's question. His Master never made small talk, he only spoke if he believed there was something needing to be said or asked. What is he implying? A stray, terrible thought crossed the German assassin's mind. Does he know of Arya? This was dangerous ground he was stepping on now.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright friends, just a couple notes for you guys!  
> *I've had a couple people comment on the last chapter so let me clarify for all. Jaqen/Arya relationship is the endgame for this story, not that it will be easy but that's where this is headed. Hope everyone is on board with that.  
> *This is the chapter about Jaqen's time during the Holiday break so you'll see him at the House of Black and White. My interpretations of the Waif and the Handsome Man are the Spanish sister and the English brother (in case that was not clear).  
> *Also, they are going to be speaking Valyrian at one point, lets just pretend its a dead language like Latin in our world. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 

 “The dead man must be eliminated as quickly as possible. As soon as our brother returns, he must give the gift.”

“No, he must wait for this Red Snake first.”

“The dead man is a liability. He had betrayed our trust, only a painful death can cleanse his treachery.”

The German assassin rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin, the hair of his new short beard a friction to his touch. It was nice not having to shave every day, a reprieve. He flippantly wondered if his lovely girl would like him with facial hair. Gagging the thought, he suppressed a frustrated groan. Too often Arya had entered his thoughts while he was in the House of Black and White. It was not Faceless. It was not safe. He returned his attention back to his fellow brothers and sister sitting around the large, circle, meeting room table. They were all masters of the Order; trained, ruthless assassins dedicated to giving the gift commanded by Him of Many Faces. There were eleven masters in attendance today, two on missions of their own still. Across from the German assassin was his English brother, recently returned from his mission in Uganda. Beside the German assassin was his Spanish sister, the only female master currently. The meeting was to talk about missions, apprentices and other important matters to the House. His English brother had already given his report of his successful mission killing the warlord whose death had been prayed and paid for. The country was now in further chaos with others fighting to replace the dead man but that was of no consequence to the Order. The mission was complete. The German assassin had just finished his summary of what he had witnessed during his observation of Professor Tywin Lannister and his treachery. Now he sat back and listened to the argument of what the timeline of the gift should be. Normally the assassin assigned the mission would choose, perhaps seeking guidance from others in the House, but with the assigned mission came the authority to choose the time and location of the gift given. This mission was different for the stain of iniquity against the Order blemished the dead man. He betrayed the Order and had to be dealt with in a way that satisfied those he deceived. _Valar Morghulis._ _His death will be painful and without remorse._

The stern-faced master with the thick jowls and bushy eyebrows seemed to lead the charge in demanding for the professor’s death immediately. “If we delay his death further, what other secrets will this dead man share?”

“If we wait, it will allow us time to learn the secrets of others. Clearly he is an ambitious man. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage.” The master missing his left ear commented, his voice sounding like dried leaves rustling.

“We cannot trust a man to sell us truthful secrets without a great reward. Why would we allow this?”

“No, we cannot trust him.” The German assassin’s Master spoke for the first time during the discussion. He sat four seats away, fingertips pressed together and palms apart in the shape of a pyramid, his mouth barely touching his fingertips. His hawk eyes were reserved, thoughtful of the problem and its consequences. Although he was not the elder-most master amongst the Order, he certainly was the one who carried the air of authority and the weight of responsibility. Amongst those residing in the House, he was respectfully referred to as the Principle Master for his role in running and overseeing the House. To the German assassin, this man he would always consider his Master, even thought they were supposed to be equals as brothers of the Order. The German assassin was the last apprentice the Principle Master trained before stepping into his new role following the death of the prior master holding the position. Although those in the Order were not supposed to have favorites, the German assassin knew there was some fondness shown only to him by the Principle Master.

“What say you, brother?” The Principle Master turned his shrewd gaze towards his former apprentice. “You have been quiet amongst the discussion. Is your silence indifference or thoughtfulness?”

He brushed his white forelock out of his face. “A man wonders who this Red Snake is and what secrets he brings with him. A man would prefer to give the gift after the meeting between the dead man and the Red Snake.”

“How do you plan on giving the gift?”

“A man has been discussing this with his sister. There is a toxin that causes paralysis leading to asphyxiation. With an added toxin that gives the impression of a heart attack, his death will appear of natural causes.”

“This dead man should understand the consequences of his actions and betrayal to the House through pain.” The stern-faced master spat out.

The German assassin inclined his head towards his brother. “A man will make sure the dead man’s gift is painful and educational. He has offended the House and must receive his just reward… the paralysis provides the time to give this reward.”

“Good,” the Principle Master nodded his head before rising. “That is enough for today. Valar Morghulis.”

“Valar Dohaeris.” Everyone else replied, rising from their own seats at different paces and exiting the barren, windowless meeting room.

“Brother,” the Principle Master called over to his old apprentice, “walk with me.” The German assassin fell into step with his prior master, their footsteps echoing against the concrete walls of the concrete hallways. They walked in silence until they turned down another hallway leading to the expansive library. “You leave us in a week.”

“Just so.”

“Is a man ready for his time to be done in the United States of America or will he wish to linger there?”

He kept his eyes forward, his countenance neutral as his mind wrestled with his Master’s question. His Master never made small talk, only speaking if he believed there was something needing to be said or asked. _What is he implying?_ A stray, terrible thought crossed his mind. _Does he know of Arya?_ This was dangerous ground he was stepping on now. His words needed to be cautious and veiled. “A man is ready to give the gift at the right time. His position and accommodations are well enough he has no desires to rush the mission unnecessarily.” Perhaps he needed to throw in a bone to hopefully distract his Master. “A man has also been studying the dead man’s son, Professor Tyrion Lannister.”

“The one called the Imp?”

“Just so, he is cunning and shrewd. A man wonders how much knowledge Tyrion Lannister knows about his father’s work that he keeps hidden away. From what a man has overheard, the son knows far more than he lets on.”

The Principle Master nodded, his hands clasped behind his back, slipping back into silence. As they approached the door leading to the library, a boy of thirteen slowly made his way out. He kept his hand pressed to the door and let it guide him to the wall to steady himself. His brown skin and dark hair gave the impression of Middle Eastern descent; his milky, cloudy eyes told the truth of his apprenticeship to the House.

“My child, remove your hand from the wall. This exercise is to teach you to use your ears and other senses.” The Principle Master addressed the blind boy.

“Yes, Master.” The boy placed his hand by his side and straightened his shoulders.

“Good, Valar Morghulis.”

“Valar Dohaeris, masters.” The boy started walking down the corridors taking deliberate steps, letting his memory and ears guide him.

The German master appraised the apprentice for a brief moment before following his Master into the library. He recalled his own time during his apprenticeship when he was blind. A potion is given to all apprentices when they reach a particular stage in their training. It is to help them hone their use of other senses beyond just sight. The typical amount of time spent blind is a week but depending on the apprentice it can be longer or shorts giving their master’s assessment. The German assassin was blind for five days until receiving his sight back. Darkness and him were old friends.

“Once a man’s mission is complete, you will return quickly. Your place is here.”

He nodded, his white forelock swaying, as he followed his Master past the shelves of books. Internally he bristled at the pointed statement. _What does he know or suspect that he is not sharing?_

“A new mission requires your attention immediately after your return. It will be short, only a few days truly.”

“Of course. Need a man prepare for it?”

The Principle Master stopped at the double doors at the back of the library, many faces carved into the wooden doors. “It would be wise to refresh your Farsi and Arabic, although languages are something a man recalls his apprentice never struggled with.”

His lips turned up faintly at the compliment. “He had a most studious master.”

“Just so. We will speak more before your departure.” The Principle Master nodded. “Valar Morghulis.”

“Valar Dohaeris.” The German assassin watched his Master pass through the wooden doors into the Hall of Faces before turning around and leaving the library. _Why am I being given another mission so quickly after this one?_ Normally he never questioned his Master, obedience and diligence were ingrained, but his direct questions and statement left the German assassin uneasy.

 

* * *

 

He knelt before the long, wooden table. The lights from the multitude of candles on the table reflecting off his skin casting shadows upon his features. The only light in the room came from the candles covering the table, the wax slowly dripping down as the tongues of flame flickered. This was a sanctuary of sorts in the House of Black in White. Here, in this small, bare chamber, was where one could silently worship Him of Many Faces without the spilling of blood. The German assassin stared at the candle he lit in honor of the caretaker. His brother had promised to light a candle for him after she died but he felt it necessary to honor her memory himself. Although he never knew her true name, always being called the caretaker around the House, she was the closest he had ever come to experiencing a mother’s affection.

_“Boy, what happened to you now?” The elderly woman looked over at the eight-year-old boy with the white forelock who stood silently in the doorway._

_He just stared, unsure why he had come here…to her. He scuffed his shoe on the floor, hands hanging uselessly by his side. She had asked him a question but he was not sure what she said._

_“Come here.” She set down the spoon she had been stirring with, and motioned for the boy to come to her side. Her gray hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. Her thin frame deceptive of the strength she possessed, her arm muscles taut as she stirred the contents of bowls or kneaded bread for those in the House. Her thin lips pursed as she watched the indecision of the injured boy, calloused hands resting on her hips._

_Cautiously, he approached, each step laced with hesitation but also hope. His jaw and stomach hurt but he had survived through worse pain. He smiled then winced at the pain as he thought of his tormentors and how they would not find him such an easy target again.  She patted the countertop next to her before turning and grabbing something from out of the freezer against the wall in the large kitchen. Obediently, he pulled himself up and settled, legs swinging slightly over the side._

_Coming back over, she handed him a small bag of frozen peas and gestured to his jaw where a bruise was probably forming. Turning back to her momentarily abandoned bowl and spoon, she picked it up and began stirring again. Keeping her eyes on her actions, she spoke to him but this time in German, her accent flawless giving the small boy a start. “What happened?”_

_He kept his eyes downcast, holding the bag against his jaw as he replied in the only language he understood. “The older boys asked me something, in English I think, then laughed because I…I didn’t understand them.”_

_“Did you start the fight or them?”_

_“I hit first.”_

_Suddenly she swatted the back of his head causing him to wince again and look up at her in confusion. She leaned closer to him, meeting his eyes. Her eyes were the same color green as the trees he used to hide behind before his fellow orphans would find him. “Dumm. Leave the fighting for the training room. Your Master will not be pleased. They are your brothers, remember that.” Standing straight, she handed him the spoon she had been stirring with and walked away with the bowl to a rectangular pan sitting on the stove._

_Gingerly, he tasted the spoon and found the mixture left on it to be sweet, almost like raw cookie dough but a stronger cinnamon flavor. He licked the spoon as he watched her scoop the batter she had been stirring into the pan and put it in the oven._

_Continuing speaking in German, she grabbed a bag of carrots and brought it over to the counter next to the small boy and began slicing them. “You learned to fight early, yes?”_

_He nodded, thinking of his life prior to coming to the House of Black and White. At age six he had been removed from his parents’ home on accounts of abuse and neglect and deposited into an orphanage. Although he received food regularly and was never locked into a closet again, he quickly was forced to learn to defend himself. A few of the older boys saw him as an easy target. He hated thinking about the almost two years he had spent there, always having to look over his shoulder and trying to find places to escape the boys and the ladies who ran the orphanage, quick to hit if they found out he had been fighting again._

_The caretaker gave him a small, sad smile as if she understood his reluctance to speak about it. “You are strong, you are a fighter. We must train your mind and will too. Now, would you like to learn English?”_

_He looked up at her, eyes wide, the spoon forgotten in his hand._

_“Put that spoon in the sink and come help me.” Quickly he followed her orders, coming to stand beside her. For the next hour he helped her cut up vegetables for their dinner as she slowly taught him English words._

The German assassin smiled at the memory. This arrangement lasted several years. Even though his Master taught him languages and fighting, the times he spent learning and practicing his languages with the caretaker were some of his fondest memories from the House _._ It felt odd…wrong to return to the House without her being there to greet him with a smile and a swat with her famous wooden spoon for something stupid he had done, in her opinion. Yes there was times she could be terrifying when angered but mostly she was a constant, someone he could come to and just quietly watch as his mind wrestled with whatever he was thinking of and could ask her advice. He was not sure if that was what a mother was supposed to be, but he accepted the role she played in his life. As time went on and he became a Master, no longer the skinny boy who was found wandering on the streets of Berlin, hiding from the boys who had almost broken his arm, she still treated him with a rough tenderness that seemed reserved for him. He wondered if the Many-Faced god favored him by delivering him from the orphanage, giving him a Master who pushed him to become the best and this woman who looked out for him without his asking.

With a single glance, she had been able to siphon through apprentices and know who would make it and who would fail. Somehow she could read the hearts and minds of those around her. Maybe it came with her age and having spent her whole life at the House. The German assassin liked to believe it was a sixth sense she carried. Many a time she had steered him away from particular apprentices when he was training, always making an excuse how they would not live long, but he knew it came from her desire to protect him.

Eyes still glued to the candle before him, he pondered what she would think of Arya. She would probably like Arya’s passion, her drive to succeed and her loyalty. What would the elderly woman say if she knew the German assassin’s heart no longer beat inside his chest but was held in his lovely girl’s hands? He smiled thinking she would probably hit him over the head with her spoon several times and call him all sorts of fool. Yes, he was a fool. _Mein Herz ist nicht meine eigene_.

Jaqen’s thoughts turned to his text he had sent lovely Arya earlier and her replies. It was a risky move, to text her from the House. The prior day, he had slipped out for a while and bought a burner phone. With some fiddling, he made it so it was untraceable. It was through this phone he risked texting Arya to wish her a Merry Christmas. He had laid in his stiff bed for a long time wondering what she was doing. Was she happy and laughing around her family?  Did she think of him often? He finally was able to control his thoughts during the day, to be only Faceless when around his brothers and Master. At night though…laying awake in bed, his thoughts, on their own accord, sought what brought him joy and peace. A beautiful woman with mahogany hair, gray eyes and a burning fire that with every touch of hers melted his heart of stone and revived him anew. It was cliché. Yet, he never cared for someone before like he did her. Occasionally she would come to him in his dreams. There he was able to safely hold her and cherish her. Once he opened his eyes though to a new day, her image forcibly vanished so the dealer of death could arise and leave Jaqen H’ghar behind.

The German assassin abruptly rose from his kneeling to stand above the candles and their drips of wax, marking the table. His time at the House was coming to an end and there was still work to be done and questions needing to be answered. With a final nod of his head to the candle he lit, he slid out of the room, leaving the air undisturbed to house its ghosts and prayers. He began his trek to find his sister, gliding along the concrete walls and unmarked doors of the only place he had ever called home. It was cold and austere, so reflective of those who lived here and their work. Yet a small flame bloomed in the assassin’s chest that, no matter how much he tried to smother it or hide it, was unwavering. He could only hope it did not reveal his deadly secret.

 

* * *

 

“As a man wallowed in mud and hid from boy soldiers, you were living in comfort with hundreds of girls at your disposal…” A man’s English brother lamented teasingly. “The Many-Faced god favors you, brother.”

“No, it is not the Many-Faced god but our Principle Master.” His Spanish sister retorted, glancing between her brothers. “Besides, if you had been given this mission our brother undertakes, you would spend more time humping those girls then actually observing the dead man.”

The German assassin chuckled at his sister’s sharp tongue and his brother’s answering shrug. They sat at a booth, pints before them on the wooden table. The Queen’s Head was the pub they frequented together when in need of a pint outside of the House. It was close enough for the drive to not take long but far enough to back track and make sure they were not being followed. At first only the German assassin and his English brother would come but as they grew closer to their sister, she occasionally would come with them. It was a popular place in the evening, a constant stream of people entering or exiting as they celebrated the end of a day or drank away their misery. The commotion of people talking, drinks poured and the TVs broadcasting the game on became background ambiance and helped hide the three assassins from lurking eyes. It was an older building with unsteady tables and stains on those tables from prior occupants decades before, yet it was familiar and a place of recreation.

“So you leave in two days…”

He looked at his English brother, waiting for the statement or questions he knew was coming. The three of them sat in the back booth and spoke in Valyrian so there was no concern of being overheard. Only those in the Order still practiced the old tongue.

“…are you going to sleep with at least one of the girls while there?”

“Dragon’s balls! Can we not talk about this?” Their sister sighed softly, fiddling with her braided, long black hair. Today her disguise was most similar to her natural look than she typically wore. Her tanned complexion and raven hair was the same but her sharp features, thin upper lip and blue eyes were different.

The heavily tattooed assassin smirked at his sister. “Would you like to hear about the woman I found in Morocco? She was flexible in wonderful ways.”

 “Gilipollas.” She spat at him

“Ah, perhaps you are jealous, my love.” The English assassin tenderly ran a finger along her cheek and jawline as she sat across from him. His eyes stared at her softly, voice murmured. “I do prefer your real face but I choose you over any other.”

“I know a toxin that will cause your dick to shrivel up and fall off.” She deadpanned, staring at him unmoved.

He threw back his head, a harsh bark of laughter erupting. The short, blonde buzzcut of hair caught the dim light, making it appear darker than it truly was.  The sound joined the merriment already around them. Just another drop in the current of others amusement.

The German assassin chuckled too, amused by the childish arguments between his brother and sister. At the House they were more stoic but at the pub, it almost felt like a secret place to relax slightly from Facelessness. When they were younger, the two brothers bound by the Order would pretend they were students out celebrating a passed exam or complaining about their families at home. The game soon wore out its glamour and they turned back to their discussions of death and training.

Once he recovered, the English assassin turned his dark eyes back to his brother. “You are wearing your true face there, yes? Girls must be throwing themselves at you.”

“They are a man’s students. He cannot cross that boundary with them.” He brushed his white forelock back before taking a sip of his beer.

“Valar Dohaeris. Your duty keeps you celibate, eh? What about that pretty, little one that brings you food? Is she off the menu?” He raised a blonde eyebrow, looking over his pint. Clearly he had been working up to this question, his amused look betraying his disinterested tone.

The German assassin called Jaqen to his lovely girl tensed as she was so casually mentioned. His senses suddenly felt on high alert and he fought to keep his appearance neutral. _How did he learned about her? My brother has not been back even two weeks._ He could not help the pit in his stomach that gnawed at him with sudden worry and fear for her safety and identity. He needed to tread cautiously with his next statements, even though they were not in the House, his words would probably reach his Master’s ears. He remembered his conversation with his Master only a few days prior. _What does he know? Is she still safe?_ “She is a friend.” He shrugged, glancing over at the bar where an abrupt giggling began from a group of young women doing shots. They looked like American tourists.  

His sister spoke, her keen eyes examining him and his truthfulness. “The Principle Master has had our other brother check the hallway cameras on occasion to see the dead man. Once, just before you left, we witnessed her go into your office. Our brother tried to check the feeds at your flat but it appeared the videos had been tampered with already.”

He noticed her hesitant speaking, as if both a warning and confession of the Principle Master checking on him without his knowledge. The best lies are those that contain some truth. He needed to shut down these questions quickly and devise a believable story for their presence together to not be questioned. “A man is considering furthering his cover by using her as a romantic interest. She was a man’s student but no longer and she appears…most interested in a man.” He could not help the smirk thinking about their passionate kisses, bodies pressed close so no air could separate them from one another.

“HA!” His English brother leered, dark eyes sparkling in mirth. “The truth! Death and pleasures of the flesh are what sustain us, my brother…keep us alive more than food and drink!”

“I do just fine with death.” Their sister muttered. Her pointer fingers traced the perfect circle stain on the wooden table from a beer years before.  

The English assassin turned his smoldering gaze upon her, his voice low. “You are a goddess of death, my love. Truly. Pleasure, though, a man can show you what…”

“Peace, brother.” The German assassin interrupted. He could see the faint shift of his sister to alert him to her unease. Their brother had been teasing her for years about coming to his bed but typically she handled it with poise and threats. He silently wondered what had her on edge now. “There is a woman ordering her drink that has been staring at you. Perhaps she would be willing to fill your bed tonight?”

“She is too skinny for a man’s taste. It would appear another round is in order though.” He rose, sliding over to the bar and quickly starting a conversation with the woman who kept blushing and worrying her bottom lip.

That quirk brought a particular face to Jaqen’s mind who bit her bottom lip when she was nervous or thinking. He allowed himself the briefest moment to indulge in the memory. No matter how hard he tried it felt as if a piece of her was always with him. Maybe it was the kisses they shared, somehow she sealed him as hers. Most of the time he could keep thoughts of her at bay but then little quirks or actions would remind him of her. A battle would then ensued between his Facelessness and his lovely girl’s Jaqen. Shoving his thoughts of her aside, he blinked and realized he had been staring at the bar where a different woman was openly staring back at him, clearly thinking his attention had been on her. The German assassin turned his gaze away to his sister who sat quietly beside him.

“What troubles you?”

She finished off the rest of her pint, taking one long swig, before answering him. “He is going to be unbearable without you here.”

“Perhaps paralyzing him for a time is a wise idea.”

She half-heartedly smiled, then sighed. “I found him…the name you gave me.”

“Baelish?”

“Yes.” She paused, her finger still tracing the circle. A long, weighty moment passed before she turned her hazel eyes to meet his bronze eyes. She appeared reluctant to speak, her eyes surveying him for an answer to her unspoken question.

“What did you find?” He prodded. His mind hummed with anticipation for her answer. He both feared and longed for her response. Perhaps he could find some answers for his lovely girl yet would those answers further harm her or strengthen her?

“Why did you have me look for him off the radar?”

He hesitated, rubbing his hand over his mouth and chin feeling the short beard that still resided on his face. What could he say that was safe?

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Does this have to do with the girl?”

“No… a man has encountered this person. There was something about him. A man wanted to assess this Baelish and see if he would influence the mission.”

She stared as if measuring his words and weighing their truthfulness. “He is very dangerous, no doubt…we fulfilled a contract for him once.”

Jaqen’s heart dropped. His fear confirmed. “When?”

“Four years ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos make my day! Thank you everyone for reading this. :)
> 
> Sneak peek for next week's chapter:  
> ~It felt as if all the turmoil of their time apart melted away like snow to reveal the spring flowers hidden below. As if coming out of a trance, their eyes opened, bronze staring into gray. "I have a gift for you..."~


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! So two things of notice for y'all. Firstly, with this chapter posted this story is now over 100k words!! *someone please stop me!!* When I started writing I never expected this story to grow but I am having so much fun writing it and all you lovely readers are so encouraging so thank you for sticking with me. I have the rest of the story plotted out...I need to write a bit more before I can give you a ballpark of chapters left. Secondly, a lot of things have been going on in my personal life and with Christmas coming up, I will not be posting the next chapter for two weeks. *OH NO!* I'm so sorry. That is the plan. If I feel a sudden burst of inspiration and manic writing, I may post sooner but we shall see.  
> On those notes, here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy! :)

 

Arya leaned against the sink in her apartment’s kitchen, catching up with Shireen, Hot Pie and Lommy. The spring semester would start in two days and students were beginning to return to their campus housing to prepare. Hot Pie had text Arya that he was coming over to make cannolis, so of course Lommy tagged along. The four friends were comparing their Christmas breaks and talking about their new classes. Arya was overly brief with her description of her break. After the incident with Gendry on Christmas, she had avoided him and his texts like the plague. Even Jon had tried to talk to her about it but she refused to talk. Apparently Gendry kept quiet about the kiss but was more moody lately. _Not my problem._ Oddly enough, Sansa was the one Arya turned to. The two sisters actually spent time together and started having a friendship, however strange it was. _She might not be the worst sister after all._ Sansa dropped out of school in Chicago and decided to take the semester off to work with their mother before picking up a few classes in the summer to catch up here. With her back and living at home, she had been more than willing to drive Arya to school and back depending on Arya’s work schedule. Over New Years, Arya picked up extra hours, using it as an excuse to stay away. Eventually she knew she would have to confront Gendry. She could not ignore him forever even if she really wanted to. Yet everything had changed with that kiss.

Arya frequently checked her phone, hoping to see a text from Jaqen. She thought he was supposed to arrive back today and he said he would let her know when he arrived. Thinking about him, butterflies took off in her stomach and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. _Did he miss me? What is the present he got me? Gods, I miss him._ Especially with her current denial of Gendry’s existence, she realized how much she relied on Jaqen’s friendship and how much he meant to her. Over the break her mind replayed their kissing, trying desperately to remember what his lips and hands felt like on her. It was stupid. Now she craved his touch, his time and his adoration. She could never go back to just being friends with him, he meant so much more to her.

“Earth to Arya. Come in, Arya.”

Arya snapped out of her trance to see her three friends all staring at her amused. “What?”

“I just asked if you were excited about our class together.” Hot Pie said, looking at her curiously. He stood a couple of feet away, leaning against the counter, with the food in the oven.

“What were you thinking about?” Shireen pointedly asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

Arya has not told Shireen about Jaqen’s kisses, nor Gendry’s. _Gods, I haven’t kissed anyone in years since Edric and now two guys in two weeks!_ Honestly, only one of those guys she had really wanted to kiss and damn was it worth it. Thinking about it again made her feel tingly and she fought to suppress a blush. “Nothing. I don’t know how you talked me into taking this class with you.”

“Oh, it’ll be fun!” Hot Pie tried to wink but both eyelids closed. “I heard it was a popular class.”

“That’s because the title of the class has the word ‘sex’ in it.” Arya retorted. Somehow Hot Pie and Shireen convinced her to take a biology class with them in the spring semester. Which was fine because it was a requirement she needed to fulfill…but now she wondered if she would regret it. _Nope, I’m going to end up regretting this. It’s a fact._

Shireen spoke up. “Its not a sex class. It’s the Biology of Sex. It focuses on the evolution and why sex is important as a species, not just for humans but for the whole animal kingdom.”

“Remind me again why I care?” Arya was beginning to question her friend’s judgement.

“I heard the professor likes to show videos of animal sex.” Lommy interjected, smirking.

Arya pointed at Lommy while staring at Hot Pie and Shireen. “See! I don’t need those images in my brain! Gods, I already walked in on my sister and her new boyfriend over break. I’m going to need therapy if I see anymore.”

“It’ll be fine. Maybe we’ll actually learn something useful to spice up the sex life.” Shireen flippantly said, running her fingers through her long, blonde hair.

“I need someone first before I can spice anything up.” Hot Pie mumbled awkwardly.

Lommy’s smirk grew as he glanced at Hot Pie. “Hey, is Jon and Gendry still single?”

“Ah! I don’t want those images in my head!” Arya exclaimed, covering her eyes.

A knock on the door surprised them all.

“I got it.” Shireen gracefully rose off the bar stool she sat on and swept over to the door. It was probably one of the neighbors complaining about the noise level, even though last semester those same neighbors blared their techno music until two in the morning. Arya has seriously considered vandalizing their apartment and breaking their speakers so she could get some sleep. It was probably wise that Shireen answered the door, she was much more civil towards them.

Arya decided to answer Lommy’s question, anything to distract from the wounded puppy dog look on Hot Pie’s face currently. “Just so you know, I’m pretty sure Jon is off the market. I don’t know if its official but he’s been spending lots of time with some senior girl named Dany.”

“Arya, it’s for you.”

Confused, Arya swung her head over to see Shireen holding the door open as a figured stepped over the threshold. It took her mind a split second before she ran and practically tackled him, wrapping her arms around him.

“Schöne Mädchen.” Jaqen murmured, pulling her further into his embrace. The inspiration to surprise her with his return had hit him mid-flight across the Atlantic. It had been a gamble that she would be at her apartment but it paid off. Her reaction was all he had hoped for and spoke volumes that her desire for him had not diminished from their time apart. Aware but uncaring of the strangers in the room, he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder, wanting to be enveloped by her presence. He missed her, truly, yet he did not fathom how much until she was in his arms and suddenly he felt whole again. _Was hast du mit mir, schöne Mädchen gemacht?_

Abruptly she pulled back, grabbing his hand, and dragged him towards her room. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Hot Pie and Lommy’s shocked faces and Shireen’s amused smile but she did not care. _HE’S BACK!_ _HE’S BACK! HE’S BACK!_ It was as if the sun had appeared during a storm; she felt lighter, happier and by all the gods she wanted to show him how much she missed him. Hastily she shut her bedroom door behind them, having led him into her dorm room. She turned to say something but his mouth descended on hers and the words vanished. He pushed her back against the door roughly, a thud resounding from the slam; but she was so absorbed in his lips and touch, a bomb could have gone off and she probably would not have noticed it. His lips crashed against her, his hands tipping her head up to better meet his. Her tongue traced his bottom lip, seeking entrance which he willingly granted. As their tongues fought for dominance, her hands slipped under his shirt and ran across his toned back, pulling him closer. They were flush against her dorm door, every part of them touching as much as possible. At one point his lips slipped from hers to ease down her jaw and neck, planting kisses like a trail of heat on her skin. Deftly, she untied the bun on the top of her head and let her hair drift down onto her shoulders.

“Mein Liebling. Du hast mir gefehlt. Meine Herzallerliebste.” He hoarsely whispered into her ear, breathing her scent in and running a hand through her hair. It did not matter that she did not understand his words. It was an admission in his native tongue. The words needed to be spoken aloud or they would burn like a fire in his chest until he turned to ash. He had tried, may Him of Many Faces save him, he had tried so hard to push away his thoughts of her while at the House, to be Faceless again. Their kiss before he left had sealed him as hers though. Whatever heart he had left she had stolen from him. He nipped at the pulse point on her neck before soothing it with his tongue. Her soft whimper shooting right through his body and it took all his willpower to not toss her on the bed behind them and make her cry out his name in pleasure. She was his siren and no longer did he try and resist her. He was owned body and soul. Slowly he brought his forehead to hers, tracing her ear and check with his nose before coming to rest.

“Jaqen,” she sighed out, closing her eyes, “I missed you.” Her arms were wrapped around his neck. One of his arms was around her waist while the other was behind her neck, tangled in her hair. 

“Arya…my lovely girl…I missed you too.”

They held onto each other for a few minutes, just listening to one another’s breath and feeling the warmth of their bodies. It felt as if all the turmoil of their time apart melted away like snow to reveal the spring flowers hidden below. It was perfection. It was joy. It was serenity. It was home. Being back in one another’s arms felt like two puzzle pieces coming together to discover what they had been missing all along. Gradually their eyes opened, as if coming out of a trance, bronze staring into gray.

“I have a gift for you…” Jaqen reached into his jean’s pocket, then grabbed one of her hands and pressed something small and hard into it. “A man apologizes he did not have time to wrap it.”

She gently kissed his soft lips, erasing his embarrassed, sheepish smile. Anything given to her by Jaqen automatically deserved to be treasured, no matter if it was wrapped or not.

“A man has only a few possessions that are truly his…but this is one of his most prized.”

Curious she opened her hand, both of his arms encircling her waist now. In her hand was an iron coin the size of a quarter, dark with strange writing on it. “What does it say?”

“Valar Morghulis on the front and Valar Dohaeris on the back.” He watched her guarded expression, wishing he could truly convey all that this small coin represented to him and about him. One of his hands drifted upward to caress her cheek as he continued speaking, noting the small crosshatch scar there. “A man received this coin when he completed his training. It shows he is a Fac…of a elite fighting group. Only a few are chosen and even fewer fully complete the rigorous training. The words are a sort of motto and reminder for us.”

“What do they mean?” She found the coin strangely beautiful and alluring. It was simple yet heavy, not just in physical weight but it carried a sense of significance and credence in her hand.  

“Valar Morghulis, all men must die. Valar Dohaeris, all men must serve.”

“That’s pretty morbid. No wonder you like me so much, I make your life fun.”

He laughed before kissing her deeply, eliciting a soft moan from her as she clung to him. She definitely made his life more interesting, fun and complicated.

Once he released her lips, she smiled looking at the coin again. “Thank you, Jaqen. I’m… I’m amazed you gave me something so important to you.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“You keep it somewhere safe and secret. It would be unwise for others to find out it’s in your possession.”

She smirked, holding his gaze as she pulled the neckline of her sweater out and dropped the coin into her bra. Quickly she adjusted it to lay flat between her small breasts inside her sports bra. Biting her lip, she watched Jaqen’s hungry eyes as she placed his coin somewhere safe and secret.

“Schöne Mädchen.” He groaned, nuzzling her neck. The thought of where his coin now resided turned him on more than he cared to admit. The coin was his to do with as he pleased. It was the first thing that came to mind when he decided to reciprocate her gift giving. He wanted to give her something of personal value, something to remember him with. In all reality she would probably throw the coin away years down the road but for now…now she had something that defined him.

She giggled, squirming as he nuzzled her and breathed hot air on her skin. Her skin felt ultra-sensitive to the touch…his touch. She practically whined when he released her and stepped back.

“A lovely girl’s friends must think a man has stolen her from them.”

“I think technically I stole you.”

He chuckled. “Just so. I was forced to come to lovely Arya’s bedroom and manipulated to taste her delicious lips.”

Rolling her eyes, she laughed. “Yep, that’s exactly how it went.” She poked him in the chest. “Just so you know, I wear the pants in this relationship.”

“Truly? What is a man supposed to wear? Am I to go about without pants on? Or is this your way of trying to undress me again?”

“It’s a phrase…wait, again? When did I undress you before?”

He leaned down, running his nose along her ear and breathing in the scent of her hair. “Has a lovely girl forgotten how she seduced a man to join her in a pool?”

She pretended to think about it as she snuggled deeper into his chest. “I’ll take full credit for that. We should go swimming again. You look delicious without clothes on.”

He chuckled before tilting her face up to meet his once more, tenderly pressing his lips to hers. It was a soft, sweet kiss. Her lips molded to follow his as he held her tighter. This was true contentment and peace in this moment for Jaqen. Something he never hoped to lose yet knowing eventually he would have to give it up…give her up. This could not continue forever however much he wanted it to. In the back of his mind, he worried already about his Master’s plans and what he suspected involving his gray-eyed beauty.

“If you keep kissing me, we will never leave this room.” She mumbled against his lips.

“Is that a problem?”

“Theoretically, no…but Hot Pie made cannolis and I really want to try one.”

He leaned back to see her face, a feigned hurt look appearing. “So you choose food over time with me? A man sees what your true priorities are.”

She laughed, stepping out of his embrace but grabbing one of his hands in hers. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” Tugging him along, she walked them out to where her three friends were softly chatting but immediately silenced once they stepped into the room. She suddenly realized they probably heard her being slammed against the door and with her hair unbound, lips swollen, they knew exactly what had happened. _Not that I care right now._  

“Hot Pie, Lommy, this is Jaqen H’ghar…my boyfriend.” A quick glance showed Jaqen give a brief nod to the guys but no reaction to her giving him a title. She hoped he was ok with her declaration of a relationship. _We were otherwise preoccupied…maybe we’ll talk about it later…or just keep kissing._

“Nice to meet you, Jaqen. The cannolis are done, just letting them cool a bit first.” Hot Pie quickly said, a huge smile on his face.

Jaqen followed Arya to stand next to the small kitchen island, stilling holding her hand. _Boyfriend._ He liked being labeled as hers and her as his, yet that term did not feel strong enough to convey his feelings for her. _Meine Herzallerliebste_. _Geliebte_. _Mein_ _Herzenswunsch_. He logically knew those titles were excessive…but they were honest of how he felt.

“Pleasure to see you again, Miss Shireen.” Jaqen smiled at Arya’s roommate, sitting on a bar stool on the other side of Arya. “I apologize for stealing your friend away.”

Shireen giggled. “Oh don’t be sorry for that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so excited at a surprise…so you two are official now?”

“Yes, a man wanted her to no longer be a student in his class.”

“Cute. About time Arya had a boyfriend. Gods know I’ve tried to set her up for months now, she always blew the guys off. I was concerned she had taken a vow of celibacy and forgot to tell me.”

“Shireen!” Arya exclaimed but Shireen just laughed at Arya’s horrified expression.

Jaqen wrapped an arm around Arya’s waist, pulling her to his side. “Those services will no longer be required.” He teased, pressing a brief kiss to Arya’s temple.

“Good, she was impossible.” Shireen’s smile grew as she watched Arya wrap her arms around Jaqen before sticking her tongue out at her.

The conversation turned back to classes and thoughts of the new semester. Jaqen beguiled Arya’s friends with a humorous story of his return flight to America involving a flight attendant, an air marshal and a drunk passenger on the flight who thought the bathroom was his throne and he the Queen of England. Arya laughed, keeping her arms around Jaqen as she listened. His arm was still around her waist, thumb rubbing her side. Eventually they would have to talk about their relationship. She understood he could not stay forever and she wanted to ignore that as long as possible. It felt inevitable that her heart would get mangled up at the end but she did not want to stay away. He would choose his job, his mission at the end of the day and not her…right?

 

* * *

 

Arya raced around her apartment in an attempt to get ready quickly before Jon arrived. Her alarm had not woken her up from her nap so she frantically awoke to a call from Jon saying he was on his way to get her. Some of the guys were going sledding after classes. There had been a light snowfall during the morning, an welcomed addition to the couple feet of snow already covering the ground. Arya grabbed her snow-pants and shoved them into a bag along with her gloves, deciding to put those on once they get to the sledding hill. Just as she was tying up her snow-boots there was a knock on the door. She had told Jon she would meet him outside and to text her when he arrived. _Maybe I missed his text?_ Ready, she threw the bag over her shoulder and opened the door.

“Hey, sorry my alarm didn’t…oh.” Standing outside her door was not Jon like she thought but Gendry. With the way he was refusing to meet her eyes, she bet Jon put him up to this. _Dammit, Jon! Keep your nose in your own business._ She had not spoken to Gendry since Christmas, although he tried several times via texts and calls. Apparently her silent treatment towards him was not enough to show her resentment towards him currently. It had been hard to ignore him over the past two weeks but she managed it.

“Arya, please…” Gendry glanced up at her, his voice soft and pleading.

She considered turning around and shutting the door in his face, forgoing the sledding today. _I’m not going to let him ruin my fun. I’ll ride with him…doesn’t mean I’ll talk to him._ Closing the door behind her, she quickly locked it and started down the hallway ignoring him. She heard him huff then in several long strides catch up with her.

“You can’t ignore me forever.” He said, walking beside her.

“Watch me!”

“Argh!” He grabbed her arm to halt her movement but she quickly slipped out of his hold. Giving him a glare that could melt stone, she stomped away.

“Arya, please!” He raced to stand in front of her. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

“And I’m trying to ignore it!” She tried to step around him but he grabbed her shoulders. Sighing, she finally looked up to meet his eyes. _If he wants to do this here, fine! Let’s do this._

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for arguing with you and saying…those things. I was so angry, I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. I just…I’m sorry and I know I’ve ruined things but I miss you and want to fix this.”

She could hear the sincerity in his voice and see the pleading in his eyes. Yes she was still pissed. Deep down though she knew she was most angry because things could never be the same fully. Their relationship shifted and it sent her reeling, unsure where they stood now. She missed their easy banter and fun times. She missed friend, a brother truly. Now…it felt like she stood in front of a stranger. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

She looked down, shuffling awkwardly for a moment before looking at him. For nights after she had laid awake in bed wondering what his answer would be to that question. “Kiss me.”

He released her, running his hands through his hair quickly. He opened his mouth to say something but a door nearby opened and a guy came out. Carrying his backpack over his thick coat, he did not even look at them as he passed by and started towards the stairs. Once the hallway was clear, Gendry looked back at her. “I don’t know. It just felt like now or never. Hearing Sansa saying you kissed that foreign prick…guy, I just thought I was losing you.”

“Gendry…”

“I know, I know. I just…Gods, you can be so stubborn and dense. I thought you knew…or at least suspected. Arya, I’m in love with you!”

She sucked in her breath at his declaration. How had she been so unaware? Her mind reviewed all their teasing, small touches and moments together trying to piece together what she had missed. She thought he had only seen her as a little sister, as a best friend. Their almost kiss had been the first hint of something more but…he was in love with her?

She thought of her conversations with Sansa in the weeks following. _Who makes me happy? Who do I want to kiss?_ The answer in her mind was instantaneous. There was no doubt, no confusion. Only a pair of burning bronze eyes and a white forelock highlighting his sharp cheekbones and teasing smirk filled her mind. Meeting his gaze, she spoke deliberately, feeling like she was drawing a line in the sand. “Gendry…I’m with Jaqen now.”

His head dropped briefly, fists clenching and unclenching before he looked back up. “I get it. I just wanted…ugh, I just wanted you to know. And I’ll be here waiting when he leaves.”

She bristled at the flippant comment of Jaqen leaving but chose to ignore it momentarily. “Where does that leave us?”

“I want to be friends again. Its not the same without you around. Jon misses you too. He doesn’t know why you’ve been avoiding us.”

He was right, it had been easier to avoid both of them and spend her time with Sansa, Shireen or alone. Gods, she did not realize how important they were to her until they were gone. _Can I do it? Can I be friends with him after this?_ Her implicit trust in him had shattered, leaving a hole in their friendship. She missed Jon though. If anything she figured she could tolerate Gendry to be able to see Jon again. Gendry knew she was with Jaqen and she doubted he would try anything now, left to pine away for her affections. “Ok.”

“Ok, what?”

“We can be friends again…but you are not allowed to say anything bad about Jaqen or I’ll kick your ass.”

“As milady commands.”

She punched his shoulder, old habits dying hard. “Stupid bull.” He chuckled and they started towards the stairs to get to Jon’s car. There was still an undercurrent of tension between them. The attempts at teasing felt strained, the air around them not quite as relaxed. The drive back over to the guys’ house was quick, with the radio on. Arya could feel the relief rolling in waves off Jon when he slipped into the back seat and discovered Gendry and Arya were speaking again. Once they reached the public hill, Jon held her back and sent Gendry to find the other guys supposedly there already.

“Everything ok between you two now?”

Arya zipped up her overall snow-pants then looked over at her favorite brother. He held her coat since he was already dressed for sledding. “I guess for now.”

“For now?”

“I’m with Jaqen…he’s going to have to come to terms with that if he wants to be friends.”

“And you’re sure you’re willing to potentially lose Gendry’s friendship over this guy?”

Arya glared openly.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Just making sure you’ve thought this through. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know. Can we talk about this later?”

“Sure, I’m here for you.” Jon reached over and wrapped her in a quick hug before she could squirm away. “Twenty bucks says my sled will go further than yours.”

“Is that a bet?” Arya smiled, pleased that Jon was not going to push the subject further. “Let’s up the game. The loser has to drag both sleds back up the hill for the rest of the day.”

Jon laughed. “Oh, you’re on!” They grabbed their plastic sleds out of the trunk of Jon’s Civic and started towards the large hill, already dotted with people sledding. The next two hours consisted of laughter, adrenaline rushes and Jon having to carry both sleds.

 

* * *

 

“Jaqen, your office hours start in fifteen minutes…” Arya wined but did not attempt to move from her perch on the corner of his office desk. Her arms were wrapped loosely around Jaqen’s waist, who stood between her legs.

“That means we still have ten minutes.” He continued leaving a trail of hot kisses down her neck and on her collarbone.

“We’re going to get caught.” She tried to reason yet her head tipped back, eyes closed, to allow him more skin to press those magical lips to.

He responded with a soft growl against her pulse point, the sensation causing her to pull him closer. The office door was shut and Brad had left to go get lunch but also to give privacy for any students wanting to meet with their new TA, Jaqen. It was only the second week of classes, January almost over, so he did not suspect there would be any yet. Even if there were some students waiting, he did not care beyond the beauty before him and sharing the breath between them. Once he recovered her lips again, he captured them with his own, loving the soft moan that escaped her as her lips followed his. Her hands ran across his abs, chest and back underneath his shirt, her touch like a fire across his skin. Her hair was no longer in its bun as his own hands ran through her hair and tipped her face up to better meet his. Suddenly he half-heartedly noticed one of her hands began wandering further south than before.

“Arya…” His lips never left hers as he questioned, her hand now firmly holding one of his ass cheeks. “Sie sind Ärger.” Her smile grew as that curious hand ever so slowly began to explore towards the front of his pants. “Schöne Mädchen.” He growled, pressing his forehead to hers. His hand caught her wandering one before it found its mark.

She just smiled, weaving her fingers through his. Over the past week since he returned, they had not done more than making out, both keeping their hands in neutral locations. She guessed it was probably harder for him but he never showed any frustration or resentment for the unspoken line they were at. It sounded silly but she wanted to enjoy just kissing him right now. Gods, she had never experienced anything like this before and wanted to soak in every moment she could. There was no fear of losing her virginity to him, if it ever got that far. Her virginity was not something she treasured or saw as sacred, as her mother probably would have preferred. Honestly, she just had not met anyone she wanted to experience that with. A bit of teasing never hurt…especially if he refused to let her leave his office.

“I should probably go.” She murmured unhurriedly, still not moving from the embrace.

“Will a man see his most lovely girl later?”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

“Oh?” He leaned back just enough to meet her eyes and see her coy smile. “What if I do this?” He ran a hand down her thigh then squeezed just above her knee. Arya cried out and tried to push him away but he smiled as he continued to tickle her. It had been a unexpected discovery, this particular, ticklish spot on her. They had been sitting next to each other when he tried to reach over her and grab something, placing his hand on her knee and she squealed. The best part was he was not ticklish so there was no fear of retribution on his part, although he would not place it beyond Arya to seek retribution in other ways.

Without warning, the door flew open to reveal Margaery Tyrell standing in the doorway. Her eyebrows practically touched her hairline and her mouth was in a perfect ‘o’ as she witnessed the two. Clearly she had not been expecting this sight before her and her brain seemed to scramble to make sense of everything.

Polite as ever, Jaqen spoke calmly looking at his fellow TA yet keeping his hands where they were, one on Arya’s thigh and the other holding her hand. “Good morning, is there something a man can do for you?”

Margaery’s back was ramrod straight, the papers in her hands beginning to tip precariously forgotten in front of her. Once Jaqen spoke, she seemed to regain some composure but her shock turned to restrained loathing. Her eyes met Jaqen’s, never once looking at or acknowledging Arya in the small office. “Yes, Tyrion is feeling unwell and wondered if one of us wanted to teach the class tomorrow or if he should just cancel it.”

“Ah, Brad may be interested. I will ask once he returns.”

“Great. I’ll come by later to see.”

“I’m sure you will.” Arya muttered, not realizing how her voice carried.

Margaery’s spiteful gaze turned to Arya, no longer being subtle. “And who are you?”

“His girlfriend.”

Margaery glared at Arya for a moment longer then turned on her heels and stormed away, leaving the door wide open in her wake.

“I should get going. Good luck with that one.”

He shrugged. “I have a girlfriend now.”

“I doubt that’s stopped her before. Hey, don’t forget to eat.” Arya nodded to the lunch she had picked up for him. That was the real reason for her visit but they started kissing and here she still was. She slipped off the desk, grabbing her backpack off the ugly couch. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wie Sie wollen, meine Liebe.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips before sitting in his chair.

When he said that, it sent a tingle down her spine. Last time he said it, she asked what it meant and he told her. Something about it warmed her belly and she suppressed a blush. She loved when he spoke to her in German, the words rolling off his tongue and dripping into her ear. It felt like he was sharing a piece of himself with her when he did. Over the break she had begun playing around with learning some German phrases to surprise him with.

Before he could hold her hostage again, she slipped out of his office and down one of the long, white hallway of Elliot Hall. She kept her eyes forward but noticed Margaery openly glaring at her from her and Jessica’s office doorway just a few door down. _I wonder what kind of grudge that one can hold…and what her revenge will be._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...what did y'all think of the reunion? Was it what you were hoping for? I know this chapter was a mix of fluff and angst, the two best things, right?  
> Side question-does anyone know if its supposed to be m'lady or milady when Gendry is speaking to Arya? I've managed to confuse myself.   
> As always, let me know what ya think!
> 
> Here's the preview for the next chapter:  
> ~"Keep your voice down!" She hissed, horrified.  
> "Come with a man, let us leave this place."  
> She watched him slowly crumbling before her. "You're not thinking straight. This is who we are."~


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BAAAAAACK!!!! I hope everyone had a great holiday.   
> So honesty moment- my husband may have convinced me to do shot(s) as I was revising this chapter. I like to give it a once over before posting... so this chapter is not quite as revised as I would like but I'm still pleased.   
> Enjoy! :)

 

Arya gaped at the table in the back of the lab classroom. She could hear Hot Pie and Shireen making comments and chuckling beside her. _What in seven hells have I gotten myself into?_ _What kind of lab is this?_ Whatever maturity she had was dwindling to the approximation of a middle-school girl.

“Ok class, this being our first lab we are doing a fun experiment.” The lab TA was saying standing in front of the white board. “Grab the supplies you need off the back table, pair up or small groups are fine. The papers you should have picked up as you walked in explain more and give you a place to write your data. You’ll turn this sheet in and your final conclusion in two weeks.”

“Arya, let’s go look.” Shireen grabbed Arya’s hand and pulled her towards the back table where other students were beginning to cluster. Before them lay a spread of at least twenty-five different types of condoms and other similar items along with several dildos.

“I thought you said this biology class was focused more on evolution.” Arya hissed at her friend.

Shireen shrugged, eyeing the offered items. “I thought so. Hey, do you think the TA will notice if I take some of those glow-in-the-dark ones? I’ve been wanting to try them.”

“Ah! Seven hells!” Arya groaned causing Shireen to giggle. They quickly grabbed a handful of several kinds before rushing back to their spot next to Hot Pie. They dumped their contraband on the table the three sat at, Hot Pie reading over the experiment sheet.

“It looks like we can choose how we want to test these.” Hot Pie muttered, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “I think we should test their length first... that seems easy.”

“Ok, I think we should test their permeability and the volume each can hold. That shouldn’t take too long then we can go.” Shireen added, beginning to rip open the condom foils.

The idea of doing experiments with condoms made Arya feel edgy. Not that she was shy or nervous about this…she just never touched a condom before. There had been no reason to. Sure she had seen them but never had any desire to see how it worked. Maybe if she had sex before it would not feel so odd. Or it was the idea of her school tuition funding a class that was literally passing out various types of condoms out to students to use for experiments and may bring some home for further experiments…of a different kind.

Soon she found herself holding a condom as Hot Pie was sticking a yard stick into it, measuring how far it would stretch before tearing. She could not help giggling along with her friends. Although this was the most ridiculous lab experiment she had ever done in all her years of school, she was actually having fun. _Probably because I losing all resemblance of maturity._

“Ok, good.” Shireen wrote down the number from the yard stick. “So that was the non-latex kind. The last one we have to measure is the lambskin one.”

“Hey, what’s this? It says a dental dam…are we using this?” Hot Pie looked between Shireen and Arya, holding the foil in his hand.

Arya blushed and could not help giggling. _Yep, I’ve lost all maturity now._ Thankfully Shireen answered, saving Arya from having to do it.

Shireen smirked as she glanced between her friends. “That’s for giving girls oral.”

His face reddened until he looked like a ripe tomato. “Oh…”

“Arya, do you want to take any of these? I’m taking a few glow-in-the-dark and lambskin…maybe a couple of those super lubed ones. What do you think?” Shireen commented easily, gathering up the foils.

“Ah no…thanks.”

Both Shireen and Hot Pie stopped and looked at her shocked.

“What?”

“Do you guys not use protection?” Shireen asked quietly. Her eyes staring intently at her friend.  

Arya was fairly sure her face was reddening by the second. “We haven’t…seven hells! We’ve only been together for like two weeks.”

“Can’t hurt to be prepared.”

Hot Pie pipped up. “Yeah, I mean he’s hot….like chocolate lava cake hot…I bet you could bake cookies on his abs.”

“Did you just compare my boyfriend to a cake and an oven?”

“I meant the oven rack, you know? Cause of the lines…”

“Oh gods.” Arya rolled her eyes putting her head in her hands as Shireen laughed loudly.

“Hey! If you want some help, I’ve heard cocoa and avocados are aphrodisiacs. There’s these bars I’ve been wanting to make…”

“And now we are definitely done. I’m going to start cleaning up.” Arya grabbed the bowl they used to hold the water laden condoms and took it to the sink. A couple of guys at the table near the sink were shooting the condoms like rubber bands and measuring how far they would fly. _Yep, a great use of school tuition._ After throwing away the condoms, she walked back over to the table where Shireen and Hot Pie were comparing notes. They traded the data numbers from their experiments so each could write up their reports individually. As they walked out, the Minnesota cold whipping around them, Shireen nudged her.

“Hey, you know we’re teasing you, right?”

Arya sighed, tucking her hands in her coat pockets to keep them warm. “I know…we just haven’t talked about it… I’m still trying to get used to the idea he’s my boyfriend I guess.”

“Hey, do you want me to make those bars for you and chocolate lava cake man?” Hot Pie asked, looking over his shoulder at Arya.

“His name is Jaqen.”

“How about lava cake?”

“No.” Arya rolled her eyes.

Shireen smiled mischievously. “Sounds better than beef cake. I bet he’s all sweet and romantic on the inside even though he looks like a bad boy on the outside. Yep, lava cake.”

“His name is still Jaqen.”

“Not anymore!” Shireen sing-songed, pulling her coat closer around her as they trudged down the sidewalk.

“What about apple cake…that’s German I think.” Hot Pie mused, his obsession with baking slipping through. “No…I think better-than-sex cake would do the trick.”

Arya grabbed a handful of snow from the ground and tossed it at the back of Hot Pie’s head. “Stop comparing my boyfriend to cakes!”

“Shit! That’s cold! It went down my shirt!” Hot Pie jumped around, trying to shake the snow out of his coat and shirt looking like a heavy-set bird jumping from one foot to the other.

Shireen laughed before slipping her arm through Arya’s. “You know you can come talk to me about this, right? I won’t say anything.”

“I know. I’ll tell you is something happens.”

“Good. I expect lots of details…I want to know everything!”

“Seven hells!” Yet Arya could not resist the smile blooming on her face.

 

* * *

 

Jaqen sat on his couch with earbuds in, head tilted back, and eyes closed as he listened to the audio book off his phone. Years ago, he discovered the best way for him to review a language was to listen to an audiobook or podcast with someone speaking the language. Currently the narrator read The Man in the Iron Mask in Farsi. He listened as the narrator described the man’s plight at learning he was a forgotten twin of the current king of France, his only crime was being born as a rival to the king. It would not take long for his brain to recall his Farsi training and be able to speak fluently. Arabic was already a language he used readily. Only one time prior had he needed to use Farsi, a quick mission in Tajikistan many years ago. Jaqen had a brief understanding of what his next mission would entail but knowing he needed to review Farsi, he suspected he would be in a rural community. Not that it mattered right now. He still had to give the gift to the professor. It was the beginning of February and the professor was meeting with the Red Snake at the end of the month. After that…Valar Morghulis. His mission would be complete. A wave of sadness hit him when he thought of how soon his time was ending here. Typically there was elation with the end of a completed mission. This time though, there was an anchor holding him here.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to the side to see his siren. Arya sat on the other end of the couch, knees propped up and writing in an open notebook. Her bottom lip held captive between her teeth while her pen flew along the blue lines of her notebook. He smiled, watching her concentration. Since his return and their announcement of dating, she came over to his apartment more frequently than before. They would get dinner and eventually end up on the couch either watching a movie, talking or doing their own schoolwork. Of course there were frequent breaks for their lips to demand from each other but it did not go further than that. He recalled her flippant comment that she was a virgin and it helped keeping his desires at bay. Although he would love to be her first, to show her the pleasures found in the embrace of another and the overwhelming sensations elicited with a few well-placed touches…he would leave soon. The image of her gloriously naked beneath him certainly held its appeal, yet he refused to take from her than leave her empty. It would only make their inevitable separation harder for both of them. Whatever was between them was not a fling nor would the sex be labeled anything close to casual. Her hold on him was already too strong and if they shared that intimacy, her bond over him would be unbreakable. Selfishly he wanted her to look back on their time fondly, to not have regrets…and with her being a virgin, he was unsure of how she would react. So he resigned himself to just kisses and faint touches, only allowing himself to bask her company and presence. Both of which he thoroughly enjoyed and sought out.

“Stop distracting me.” Arya commanded, keeping her eyes on her notebook. She was trying to finish the stupid report for her biology lab. It was not due for two weeks but she figured if she wrote it up quick, she could just be done and have more time over the weekend. The only problem was she would feel Jaqen’s hot gaze on her and it derailed her thought process. Actually it was quite hard to focus with him only a couple feet away from her looking like a Greek god. When his head was back laying against the couch, eyes closed and him unmoving, he looked like a marble statue of a Greek god or maybe Michelangelo’s David. She found herself admiring his jawline, his lips, his long eyelashes and the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. _Gods, he’s perfect…and distracting._ The other problem was, ok so two problems, was she could not find the blasted paper from her lab on which she quickly scribbled the data numbers from their experiments. She remembered shoving it into her backpack but could not find it now. Which meant it was probably at the bottom of her bag all crumpled up and illegible now. _Seven hells!_

She glanced up to find Jaqen still watching her, his bronze eyes soft. It made her insides melt. There was open adoration on his face. She wondered if that look was something she would ever get used to seeing. “I’m almost done. Maybe ten minutes?”

“A man is content.” He watched the beautiful blush creep up on her cheeks, like a slow sunrise across the sky. Taking the earbuds out, he turned the audiobook off and set his phone on the coffee table.

She dug around in her backpack for a moment then sighed. Without preamble she unzipped her backpack fully, turned it upside down and let the contents spill onto the floor. It was dumb how frustrated she had let herself become to find this one piece of paper. If she still could not find it after this drastic measure, she would just get the numbers from Shireen tomorrow and deal with Shireen’s teasing. Unfortunately as her other notebooks, random hidden pens and papers spilled out, other unknown objects flitted to the floor. To her horror, the bright wrappers of at least twenty condoms fell amongst her notebooks and pens, their colorful foils quite distinguishable. Feeling her cheeks hot from embarrassment, she looked up at Jaqen hoping for some strange reason he would not have noticed. But of course he had. With a single eyebrow raised and a playful smirk on his lips, he fixated on her with his gaze. Slowly reaching down, he grabbed a foil closest to him and brought it up. A quick glance at the foil and his smirk widened.

“Banana flavored?”

She wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment right here and now. Yet with that teasing look in his eyes and him so casually holding a condom, she could not help being a little turned on…or a lot. Laughing at the hilarity and embarrassment of the moment, she leaned over and began gathering her notebooks off the floor. “Yesterday in lab we had to do experiments with condoms. I’m guessing while I was dumping out the water we used, Shireen put these in my backpack. Gods! How did I not notice them? There’s so many!”

“Ah. I wondered if a lovely girl had something she needed to tell me.”

She grabbed a handful and tossed them on the coffee table. “Oh? Maybe I just like being prepared? Shame though, I think I left my handcuffs at home.”

Although her tone was teasing, he could hear the underlying nervousness in her voice. She refused to meet his eyes as she continued picking up her mess. Reaching over, he snagged her hand and placed their joined hands between them. Her eyes followed the movement before meeting his gaze. “I would never force you to do something you did not want to.”

“I know. I trust you.”

He hesitated to speak, to broach the topic knowing she needed to hear his stance before they moved further. Yet looking at her eager eyes and biting her lip, his mouth sealed shut. Another night. A topic for another night.

“Jaqen, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Mein Liebling. Come here.” He tugged on her hand then helped her to situate so she leaned her back against his chest, his arms around her torso.

“Is this about the condoms? About us having sex?”

“A man does not wish for you to regret in the future.”

She tipped her head back to look at him, compassion and sadness filling her core. “I won’t regret you…or any of this. Whatever happens after you leave will happen. Let’s focus on the time we have together, ok?”

He pressed a kiss to her temple in response.

“Mmm…now that that’s settled. What in seven hells do I do with all these condoms?”

The laughter bubbled up from within him and escaped his lips.

“Its not funny.” She smacked his thigh, suppressing her own grin. “I can’t take these back to my apartment because Shireen will probably find an excuse to steal them and I don’t need to give her more ability to inform me of her and Tommen’s sex life!”

“I’ll take care of them.”

“You sure?”

“Perhaps it is wise to be prepared.” He purred as he moved her hair over her shoulder and left  a trial of soft kisses on her neck. Her hands gripped his thighs as she tilted her head, giving him access to more skin.

“One condition.”

“Mmm?”

She closed her eyes, loving the feel of Jaqen’s lips on hers, of his hot breath on her skin and his arms holding her against him. It was so easy to get lost under his touch. She felt unglued and only he could put her back together. “We have to toss out the flavored ones. I heard one of the girls in class mention how they smell really strong and ruined strawberries for her. I happen to like strawberries.”

He chuckled, his lips still tasting her pale skin. “Then my condition is the loss of the glow-in-the-dark ones.”

“Why?” She could not help the childish giggling that ensued. It was so stupid why the thought of those made her giddy… but they did… and she hated it.

Serious, he took her chin in his hand and turned her face to meet his gaze. He stared into her eyes, bronze meeting gray, hoping to convey all his feelings and emotions. “Because a man will not take you quickly in the dark. He will lay you down to caress and take his time.  I want to watch you in the light, see every inch of you and bare full witness to the beauty you are. You deserve to be worshipped repeatedly. That, my lovely Arya, is why.”

Unsure of what to say following his declaration, she tipped her head back so their lips could meet. She kissed him, long and slow. Their mouths found a synchronized rhythm, their shared breath encasing them. One of his hands cupped the back of her head to pull her closer while she snaked her own hand to the back of his neck. Breaking the kiss, she trailed her lips and tongue down his throat and over to his ear. As she began to flick his earlobe then nibble on it, she felt a shudder course through his body. His hand tightened in her hair, his other causing friction on her thigh. _Why would I regret this? Regret him? He makes me happy._ She decided to ponder that later…now she just wanted to ponder the taste of his skin and let his smell continue to envelope her. That mixture of cinnamon, man and hints of leather, so unique to her Jaqen that had become not just a familiar, comforting smell but something more…she realized it took a new meaning, for now it smelled like home.

 

* * *

 

“Please don’t do this.”

“It’s too late, the Principle Master has asked for a woman specifically to give this gift of death.” The Spanish assassin did not remove her eyes from the glass beaker she held. Inside held a poison she would need to give the gift.

The English assassin closed the door to her small workshop, shelves covered in vials and glass jars containing various elements and liquids. So much potential for death lay harmlessly along those shelves. He leaned on the table that lay in the center of the room, watching her mix some liquids in the glass beaker. “You cannot go to this dead man. He will harm you. Let this man give the gift in your place.”

Startled, she looked up at him. Never before had there been concern for her safety while giving the gift, although truly she rarely did. She found her place better served helping others give the gift and teaching the apprentices about poisons than actually giving the gift herself. Carefully she set the poison down she was concocting. “Brother, what troubles you?”

“It is dangerous.”

She laughed, the braid of her long black hair swaying against her back from the movement. “We are Faceless, when has that stopped us? Do you fear he will outsmart a woman? It will be easy enough to slip amongst the whores he obtains and deliver the gift without anyone noticing.”

He thumped the table with his fist in frustration. “What if he forces you to lie with him first?”

“Valar Dohaeris.” She shrugged, eyeing her English brother curiously.  His dark eyes, normally teasing and flirtatious towards her, contained within them something she had not seen in a long time.

“NO! Do not do this thing!”

“Why? A woman will only be gone a few days.”

Suddenly he turned and punched the wall, chest heaving. The sound echoed in the small room like the first gunshot heard before a battle. The heat of anger radiated off of him, an almost palpable presence surrounding him.

She rose from her seat, concerned. Since his return, she had begun to notice a change in his behavior. He spent more time outside the House drinking or would sit quietly in her workroom just watching. His emotions became more erratic, anger seeping out more than it used to. Two nights ago he returned to the House with bloody fists, claiming to have killed a man outside of a pub. Without questioning further, she cleaned him up and bandaged his scraped and bruised knuckles.

Rounding the table now, she came to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. His chest continued to rise and fall heavily, eyes closed, his fists clenching and unclenching as if the act would dissipate his emotions. This was a side of her brother she had never seen before and hoped her touch would help calm him somehow. With their German brother gone, she worried what would happen if she took him to the Principle Master.

Slowly the English assassin turned to face her, his bloodshot eyes holding her own hazel eyes with desperation. The tattoo sleeve rippled on his arm as he lifted it up to place a hand tenderly on the side of her neck. His pale skin held such contrast to her own natural dark color. “Please don’t do this.”

“What has happened to you, Brother?”

“Don’t leave me, Catalina.” He whispered. His words, his eyes, so full of brutal despair and longing.  

She stiffened at the use of her true name, unspoken for years. A name she tried to forgot and have the world forget about. Could she ever be free of it? Yes, that was why she came to the House of Black and White…to be Faceless. “You forget yourself.” She tried to step back but he grabbed her shoulders roughly, holding her in place.

“A man can’t do this. This past mission…A man cannot. Please, don’t abandon me.”

“A woman must do her duty, just as you have. The Many-Faced god will reward his servants.”

He released her, taking a step back as he loudly cried out. “Fuck him! Fuck the Order and missions! Fuck the Principle Master!”

“Keep your voice down!” She hissed horrified. What was going on? No good would come from this is any of the other masters heard this.

“Come with a man.” He moved in front of her again, a desperate gleam in his eyes.  “Let us leave this place.”

She watched him slowly crumbling before her. His typical bravado gone replaced with an feeble insecurity. This could not be. He needed to be reminded of himself, to return his mind to Facelessness. “You are not thinking straight. This is who we are.”

“No! Please, come with me. Tonight, we can leave.”

“What of our German brother? Will we abandon him?”

“We can find him but he has changed. This girl he is with…he sees her differently than the others.”

“A woman fears you are right, but that is not for us to intervene.” She sighed, she had her own fears for their brother but that was to ponder for another time.

“The Principle Master will not let him keep her…and he sends you to the pit of hell…I cannot lose you.”

“What are you saying?”

His hands shook as he cupped her face yet his voice rang sound and true. “A man need you, Catalina. A man want you and you alone.”

His declaration shook the Spanish assassin to her core. No one had ever said those words to her before… for no one was supposed to. They were Faceless. Love…the bane of duty. She had to end this delirium now before consequences befell them both. Although a piece of her pitied her brother at the moment, she spoke harshly for he needed to be reminded of the truth. “Catalina is dead. A woman stands before you who does not want or need. You forget yourself, Brother. We are servants of Him of Many Faces. That is who we are.”

He backed away from her as if she had slapped him. “Sister…”

She continued unhindered. “You need to leave now, Brother. These desires of yours…if it is love you think you feel, kill it. Love has no place for us. Love is weakness. Our brother understands this. We have our duty and that is absolute.”

He nodded as if in a daze then muttered a quick ‘Valar Morghulis’ before slipping out of the workroom like a wraith.

Once he was gone, she moved and sat heavily on her stool, head in her hands. No good would come of this. She wondered if she needed to contact her German brother, he always knew how to handle their English brother best. A foreign tear slipped down her cheek betraying her true emotions. What would the repercussions be of her denial to his desires? Something had changed in her tattooed brother that she feared if love could not heal than only death could… but whose death?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So some fluff, some angst, all the good stuff. Did you like the new POV?  
> True story- I took a Biology of Sex class in college and our first lab was doing experiments with condoms...and the professor really did have a thing for having us watch videos of animal sex. *shudders*   
> Anyway, next chapter will be posted next Saturday! YEA! I don't have a sneak peek for next week's chapter (sorry) but as this moment I think there are between 6-8 chapters left in this story. We are coming closer to the finish line! 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think! Y'all are the best!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear friends!   
> I apologize that this is coming out a day later than anticipated. I've been dealing with some health stuff. With that in mind, I'm still aiming for a chapter a week but please don't be alarmed if its a day late or so. I'm still hoping for posting on Saturdays but we shall see.   
> Anyway, onward to the chapter. Enjoy! :)

 

The library was pleasantly quiet, only the typing on laptops and occasional footfalls reminded Arya there were other people around. She stared at her textbook for her Intro to Personality class, not seeing the words in front of her. Worrying her bottom lip, she rubbed her eyes quickly. There was a quiz coming up and she needed to study…yet she lost her drive to. Actually she lost her drive to do anything besides go into a catatonic state. This happened every year about this time, the overwhelming feeling would eventually fade back into a dull ache after a few days. Sighing, she refocused on the paragraphs before her. _I need to text Jon. See what the plan is._ Within moments of the audible sigh, a warmth covered the back of her neck and a gentle pressure turned into a massage on her tight muscles. She tipped her head forward, focusing on the feeling instead of the pain in her chest.

Jaqen turned his full attention from his laptop to Arya, beside him. They sat next to each other at the wooden library table, waiting for her next class to start. He had noticed her unusual solemnness and wondered what inner demon she was wrestling. Gently tipping her towards him, hand still on her neck, he pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. “Lovely girl, how can I help?”

Her affection for him grew with that question. He did not demand to know what the issue was. He did not push her to express her feeling. He just quietly asked how he could relieve her pain. She shook her head, blinking back unwanted tears. “You already are…just being here…”

“Wie Sie wollen, mein Liebe.” Sliding his chair next to hers, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Immediately she rested her head on him, allowing him to be her pillar of strength. They sat that way for some time, in their corner of the library. He wondered what was going through her head but kept quiet, choosing to comfort her however she needed it. If she wanted to talk, she would. So he sat, willing his heart not to tear as he felt her silent pain.

“I have a surprise for you.” He softly said, brushing his lips on the top of her head once more. Over the past weeks he began to notice that she wore her hair down more instead of in a bun on the top of her head. He wondered if she did that for his benefit. Typically when they were at his apartment, he would play with her hair, running his fingers through her mahogany locks while they sat on the couch. Or when kissing, he loved tangling his fingers in her lovely hair. At the moment, her hair was in a loose braid, hanging down her upper back.

“Mmmm…what is it?” She tipped her head to meet his eyes confused. _Why is he giving me a present? Valentine’s is next week…shit, does he celebrate that?_

Reaching down, he grabbed something from his bag next to him. He held out his hand in front of her. A silver key lay in the palm of his hand.

“Is that…is this to your apartment?”

“Yes.” He debated giving it to her over the past several days but finally relented in the moment, hoping it would cheer her up.

“Are you sure?” She sat up, taking the key from his hand. This felt serious.

“A lovely girl is over enough and eats all a man’s food, she should have a key.”

“Hey!” She playfully poked his ribs, the first smile of the day on her lips. “Danke.”

“Bitte.”

A warmth growing in her heart replaced the ache in there prior as she added his key onto her keyring. “Is this you trying to get me to do your laundry?”

He laughed, disrupting the silence of the library. “I would never try and manipulate you like that.”

“Sure. I guess it would be payback for you buying dinner all the time.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He glanced at the time on his phone. “It’s almost time for your class. Would you like me to walk with you?”

She smirked. “You just want to make-out in that spare classroom before my class starts, don’t you?”

He shrugged, his eyes alight and a teasing smile on his lips.

“You know last time I was late because of you…and I found a hickey on my neck after class.”

His smile grew.

“You’re impossible.”

Laughing again, he gathered up his laptop and pulled his coat on. “Its not a man’s fault he cannot resist the temptation before him.”

“I’m going to have to put a muzzle on you.” She muttered drily, but the smile on her face and butterflies in her stomach gave proof to her actual feelings.

 

* * *

 

The next day Jaqen walked down the hallway towards his apartment, an uneasy feeling eating away at his gut. He adjusted his satchel bag, careful of the laptop and documents for the research paper within. It was early evening on a Wednesday and he walked alone. An unusual event for the day. Typically Arya would join him for dinner and they would work on their separate schoolwork or watch TV together. Friday evenings she still dedicated for their training. Like an itch he could not scratch, it bothered him returning to his apartment alone. He had text Arya, still using the burner phone he bought over the break. The last thing he wanted was the Order to see the texts they sometimes sent to one another. Not that the texts were inappropriate, but his dedication to the mission would certainly be questioned. She text back that she was feeling unwell and was going to stay at her apartment and rest. He offered to grab dinner and see her for a short bit but she quickly refused surprising him. He could not help but wonder if whatever was bothering her the day before in the library was still a factor. It disturbed him that he did not know nor would she share with him what the issue was.

“Good evening, Mrs. McKinney.” Jaqen greeted the elderly woman who lived across the hall from him. She stood at the door, key out, a plastic, grocery bag in the other hand.

“Ah! Pretty boy! All alone tonight?” She smiled warmly, looking over her purple-rimmed glasses at his approach.

“Yes, a good night to relax.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Pah! You’re young. Go enjoy life! Why at your age, I was out every night until the early morning hours, making memories and forgetting others thanks to my friends- vodka and orange juice!”

Jaqen looked at her seeing her bright green eyes, undimmed through age, constant half-smirk like she knew something secretive and her overall confident attitude. Forty years or so ago, she was probably quite the heartbreaker…and knew it too, a deadly combination. He chuckled thinking about the trouble she probably caused. “A man will heed your words, perhaps he needs a proper instructor.”

She laughed wholly, laying a hand on her chest. “Boy, I don’t think you could handle me even now. I’m old but I still know how to have a good time.”

“A man does not doubt it.”

“Stop flirting with me now. I plan on having a bath and watching a porn unless you care to join me and keep an old woman company.”

He smiled, knowing she was just teasing him to get a reaction. He learned early on she enjoyed trying to shock those around her. Their first encounter, he helped her carry bags of groceries to her apartment and she bluntly told him to take his shirt off so she could get some eye candy. Underneath she was warm and kind, occasionally baking things and sharing with the neighbors directly around her. “Perhaps next time. A man needs to be able to wake up early and function properly tomorrow.”

She smiled, the air between them having lost the teasing to something more of a friendly familiarity. “Your loss. Good night, pretty boy.”

“Gute Nacht, Mrs. Mc Kinney.”

His thoughts turned to what items were in his fridge that he could eat for an easy dinner. The idea of working on the research paper did not enthrall him. _Perhaps a drive would be pleasurable._ It had been several days since it snowed so the roads were fairly clear. Yet as he unlocked his door and stepped into his apartment, all ideas of a drive fled to be replaced by fear. He dropped his bag without thought and kicked the door closed behind him before bounding over to the couch. Arya lay curled up on his couch, loosely holding a bottle of whiskey. He dropped to his knees in front of her, equal amounts of fear and worry slipping through his veins. Her eyes were red rimmed, tear tracts obvious on her cheeks like she had given up on wiping away the evidence of her despair.

“Arya…Mein Liebling…” He cupped her face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. His frantic mind swiftly thumbed through possibilities for the cause of her distress. She did not appear injured physically. _Thanks to Him of Many Faces._ A flashback to the attempted rape of her crossed his mind and he prayed something similar had not occurred.

She blinked slowly before sitting up, her movements slow and clumsy. “Tomorrow is the four year anniversary of my father’s death…I just…I just wanted to be alone…then I didn’t. Surprise.” Bringing the bottle to her lips, she took a hasty draw, wincing as the burn hit the back of her throat. Usually she spent the day in a self-induced solitary confinement, pouring over photos, videos, anything to freshen the memory of her father. She hated to think she was forgetting anything about him. That thought hurt the most amidst her loss, that one day she might forget his face or the sound of his laughter or how safe and loved she felt when he hugged her, giving her his undivided attention. In a split second, her dorm room felt confining and suffocating. She remembered her father loved whiskey and decided to selfishly and irresponsibly honor that memory of his. Grabbing only her phone and keys, she fled her dorm to bang on her neighbor’s door. The guys next door always had some kind of alcohol there. Luck and maybe the gods were with her since the nicer one was home and had a bottle of Jameson. She promised to pay him back, slipping it into her coat and walking away. Without thinking, her feet and subconscious had her jumping on the Campus Connector bus then making her way to Jaqen’s apartment. In the back of her mind she knew he would not be back to his apartment for another hour or two, but he gave her a key for a reason, right? After letting herself in, she slumped on the couch and started drinking straight from the bottle as renewed waves of sorrow and despair crashed against her heart and mind, threatening to drag her under into the depths of depression. Currently, her head spun after she sat up, reminding her it had been hours since she actually drank water. Her stomach felt uneasy but she was not at the point of being sick yet. Above all, she felt a numbness about her, a cocoon of hazy serenity that beckoned her like a lighthouse to passing ships.

His eyes quickly searched her, taking note of everything about her person to decide her state of being. He was not sure at what early stage of drunkenness she was at but she was clearly no longer sober. As her words sunk in, it felt like a derailed train crashed into him. He should have known. Mentally he cursed himself for not noticing her withdrawing into herself yesterday and for not remembering the date of Ned Stark’s death. _Verdammt._ Carefully withdrawing the bottle from her hand and setting it on the table, he moved to sit next to her. As if this action was what she had been waiting for, she scrambled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face into his chest. He pulled her tight against him, whispering comforting reassurances in his native tongue as one hand ran up and down her back and the other cupped the back of her head. Time slowly crept by, a measurement of breaths taken and moments shared. Eventually the faintest of whispers drifted up to his ear, a desperate plea begging for solace.

“I don’t want to be alone…please, don’t make me leave tonight.”

His resolve, his willpower, it all wilted away by the sorrowful, childlike tone. He could not abandon her. Not now. Reverently, he gathered her in his arms, cradling her like the hurting child she was and brought her to his room. Gently he laid her on the bed and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back.” He promised before slipping out.

She could hear him moving around, turning off lights and running water from the sink. In her haze, she at least had the notion to kick her shoes off and take off the sweater she had been wearing. Her coat lay on the floor somewhere near the couch. She had a tank top on under the sweater, so she tossed the sweater towards the end of the bed before diving under the covers. Immediately she was wrapped in his scent and tears pricked her eyes from the sheer sense of safety and home it brought with it. A few minutes later, Jaqen silently returned like a ghost in the night. He set a glass of water and pills by her. She took the pills and drank some of the water after his insistence before slipping beneath the covers again. This time Jaqen joined her, wearing some kind of sweat pants and shirtless. He slid in next to her, wrapping her in his arms of serenity. Contently, she sighed, the first time feeling any sort of peacefulness in the past day. _I wish I could appreciate this more…half naked in bed with me…mmmm…_ Her sluggish mind felt as if it had one foot in the present and the other foot in replaying memories…both becoming more hazy as the alcohol settled in her blood.

“He used to take us fishing when the weather was nice.” Arya pressed her face against his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat beneath her ear. “Sometimes, if I couldn’t sleep, I’d try and sneak downstairs to watch TV or get water. He would always hear though… no matter how quiet I tried to be. He’d sit next to me until I was ready to sleep then… then he’d stay with me until I fell asleep.” The words continued to pour out of her like a leaking pipe, unable to control itself for the damage was already done. “He liked his coffee black in the morning, with eggs and sausage, reading the newspaper. He liked knowing what was going on in the world. He’d let us kids read the comics. I think he’d like you, I wish you had been able to meet him.” 

Jaqen brushed his hand along her back, silently letting her reminisce of a man he would never know. Her words were so quiet, he wondered how aware she was of what she said and if she would fall asleep in mid-thought. He found himself listening intently though, absorbing her memories, glimpsing into her childhood and pieces of her soul. Tenderly he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, pulling her closer to him.

“Mmmm…you smell good. I like that you’re not super hairy. Sandor is. Sansa said she likes it. I think she’s just saying that. She says he’s good to her and a good kisser. I told her you’re better…not that Sandor kissed me. Gendry did. Sandor has always liked Sansa.”

His interest peaked. “Gendry kissed you?”

“Uh huh.” She yawned, the majority of her mind slipping into sleep. “At Christmas…said he loved me. I didn’t like it… I’m tired.”

“Go to sleep, Schöne Mädchen. You are safe.” He purred, feeling her body slacken once sleep overtook her. There is something intimate about falling asleep in close proximity to someone else. It is a trusting act. To believe you will be safe and unharmed once awake. There is the feeling that your dreams intermingle with those sharing sleep. An even more frightening feeling depending on what those dreams detail. In sleep, masks and facades fade away, the unconscious unable to continue gripping the unreal. Only truth emerges.

Laying next to the one his heart desires, Jaqen’s mind felt turbulent like stormy seas. Several thoughts crashing against him, breaking against the shore of his consciousness. How her life could have been different if her father had not been taken from her. He knew the truth of Ned Stark’s demise. _Should I tell her? How could I keep it from her?_ Baelish, a snake seeking to control the world and shape it to his desires. Knowing the truth, he did the trust the man, especially not around Arya. Something needed to be done…but how and when? Her family was not safe with that man surrounding them with his presence. _I’ll deal with him later._  The dead man came first. The meeting between him and the Red Snake was in two weeks. _Valar Morghulis._ Another stray thought tempted his mind that subconsciously caused him to brush his lips over her hair. A kiss from the jealous black-haired boy. There was much more to this story that he wanted to know. Jaqen tried to shove down the anger and possessiveness that built up in his chest. Turning his attention back to the lovely girl in his arms, he focused on her breathing, her smell and the feeling of her pressed against him. He would do anything to keep her safe and happy. She was his joy, his north star to discovering a lost piece of himself. In the here and now, he relished the feeling of wholeness and wondered if his love would drown the both of them or set them free.

 

* * *

 

 Waking up felt strangely similar to the last time she woke up in Jaqen’s bed- pounding headache and emotionally drained. Yet this time she could feel his presence in the bed next to her and she suppressed a smile. The briefest peek showed him laying on his side, head propped up in his hand watching her. What startled her was the softness, the simple contentment on his face. It was almost intrusive to see it. Any mask, any guard of emotions, stripped away to reveal a simple joy in watching her sleep. Her heart threatened to explode out of her chest with the sentiment…her ovaries considered exploding for other reasons.  

“Stop staring.” She muttered, putting her hand over her face. After all her crying yesterday and drinking, she probably looked worse than a pile of crap and her breath probably smelled like the fumes of all seven hells.

“Guten Morgen, Schöne Mädchen.”

“Ugh, why is everything so bright and loud?”

He chuckled as she pursed her lips, eyes covered. “Sit up.”

“I can’t.”

“Sit up, Arya. Trust me.”

“Verdammt.” She grumbled, earning a snort from Jaqen at her knowledgeable choice of German. Reluctantly obeying, she eased herself so she was half sitting up, still keeping her eyes closed. A glass of water appeared in her hand and a pill pressed in the other. Without looking, she took the pill and drained the water. Logically she knew the water would help eventually but now it just made her stomach feel like it was churning.

“Lean forward.”

“You’re demanding.” But she did as requested. The bed shifted as he maneuvered both of them so his back was against the headboard, legs on either side of her and her back against his chest. Something fluttered in her chest as he began massaging her head, neck, shoulders and arms, tensions easing out under his warm, callused hands. He took care of her, looked out for her and she did not even have to ask. However much she liked her independence and self-reliance, knowing he had her back in the simple things heightened her feelings for him. “What time is it?”

“After nine.”

“It’s Thursday…you have a class at eight.”

“I called in sick.”

Opening her eyes, she turned her head to look at him. “You didn’t have too.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I wanted to.”

She leaned back fully, letting her body weight rest on him. His arms wrapped around her waist and his head laid on hers. “Thank you. I’m glad you stayed.”

“How are you feeling?”

The weight of the question and its implications fell on her shoulders. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to still the tears threatening to form. _No more tears. I’m done crying._ She twisted slightly so her forehead was pressed against his neck. “I’m ok. It’s always a rough day but I’m doing ok. My headache isn’t so bad anymore…Thanks.”

“Can you promise a man something?” He placed a hand under her chin, meeting her eyes. “Don’t drink alone again, please. That was unwise.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I promise.” One of her hands made its way up behind his neck to pull him down into a kiss. She hoped he could taste the truth of her promise on her lips. His lips were soft and gentle against hers, an intimate kiss like they had all the time in the world to embrace and explore one another. It was so easy to lose herself in his touch, to feel like everything was right in the world.

He broke the kiss, pressing his lips against her forehead quick before leaning back. “A girl should eat. Are you hungry?”

“You keep making me move after I get comfortable.”

“Apologies. I will make breakfast. Come out when you’re ready.” He slipped out from behind her. Giving her a quick kiss, he walked to the kitchen. The French press was soon percolating while he started on some French toast, something he did not make often. A memory of the caretaker teaching him how to make French toast came to mind and he smiled at the memory. Once he was almost done, he could hear Arya shuffling into the kitchen and take a seat at the counter. Without a word, he poured her a cup of coffee and set it in front of her along with the milk and sugar. She smiled, the light brightening her gray eyes and he wondered if there was anything more mesmerizing.

“What are you doing today?” He asked as he plated the French toast for them, bringing the maple syrup over.

She fiddled with the sleeve of her sweater she had found on the floor and put on before coming out. “I’m supposed to hang out with Jon later. We always spend part of the day together…probably watch a movie.”

“Do you remember months ago… when you brought me a cinnamon bread?”

Of course she remembered. He has looked so forlorn sitting alone at the table, looking out the window but seeing something other than the coffee shop he sat in. “Yeah, you left a note…which I kept.”

“A man received a call just before…he found out a woman from his…home had passed away. She was important to a man, looked out for him.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaqen.” She reached over and placed a hand on his arm.

“Over the break, he returned and paid his respects to her. Is there something like that you can do? It may help with memories of your father.”

She bit her lip as she thought about what he said. “Yeah…I haven’t visited his gravesite since his burial. Maybe Jon will go with me. He might like that…thanks for the idea.”

“Bitte.”

They finished the rest of the breakfast in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts and memories of those lost and those found.

“That was delicious. I didn’t know you could cook.” Arya commented as she walked over to bring their empty plates to the sink.

“I am full of surprises.” He sat watching her, his mug cupped in his hands. “Will the dark haired boy be there today?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Gendry? Probably, why?”

“Mmmm…a most lovely Arya may have mentioned something last night that is most curious.”

Her mind raced to think of what peaked his interest so…and came up blank. “What is it?”

He rose, coming around the counter, eyes pinning her in place. His walk was slow and purposeful, like a predator approaching a prey frozen in terror. “You said Gendry kissed you…at Christmas.”

A blush colored her cheek. _Shit! Seven hells! I wasn’t going to tell him!_ She had decided to keep that bit to herself, unsure how he could take the news and to not heighten the animosity between the two guys. “It’s nothing. Just a miscommunication.”  

He stopped directly in front of her, placing his hands on either side of her, trapping her against the counter. “That was not what you said last night.” He accurately guessed she would belittle the encounter. Although they technically were not “dating” over the break when the supposed kiss happened, the notion of it burned a fire of jealousy within him. He had seen the looks Gendry gave her and guessed a miscommunication was not how the dark haired boy viewed the kiss. His bronze eyes bored into her gray, demanding the truth. He needed to know what happened before he saw the jealous boy again.

“Really…I dealt with it. He knows we’re together and I don’t feel that way about him.”

“What happened?”

“It’s noth-…”

“Arya!”

She sighed, biting her bottom lip, unable to meet his gaze. Gods, she had wanted to avoid this conversation. “Fine. We were hiding from Robert…long story, not the important part… Sansa figured out we had kissed and…well, blurted it out in front of everyone. Gendry got jealous and while we were hiding…he just…he kissed me. We fought after…”

“Did he hurt you?” Jaqen interrupted, eyes blazing.

“No! Gods, we yelled at each other. See, it’s not a big deal. I can handle it.”

They stood there for a long tense moment, a stand-off of wills. Eventually he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “If he lays a hand on you again in a way that displeases me, a man cannot be responsible for his actions.”

“You’ll have to get in line. I already told him I’d kick his ass.”

He chuckled darkly before pulling her against him and crashing their lips together. The thought of someone else forcing their lips upon hers, the idea of them even accidently hurting her made him see red. He roughly picked her up by her thighs, her legs automatically wrapping themselves around his waist, and moved to sit her on the counter. “You’re mine.” He growled in her ear, his mouth moving then to nip at her pulse point. “This is mine.” His tongue soothed his bite before sliding down her neck to the hollow of her throat. A shudder coursed through her as her hands gripped his hair on the back of his head. He kissed the gap between her collarbones. “Mine.”

“Jaqen…” She murmured, lost in his tongue and declarations. His hands gripped her hips tightly yet she found herself wishing his holder was tighter.

He trailed his tongue to the junction where her throat met her shoulder. Biting and sucking on her pale, soft skin, he purposefully left a mark…his mark….for the whole world to see. “Mine.” She moaned, head tilted back and eyes closed. He pressed hot, open-mouth kisses back up the other side of her neck. Once he reached her mouth, he claimed it once more for his own. Their tongues clashed, sending pleasurable shivers down both of their bodies.

Her hands tugged his hair, wanting, no needing him closer. She tightened her legs around him, drawing him further. A deep warmth burned in her belly and between her legs. Her skin felt on fire and she ached for it to consume her. One of his hands glided up along her waist until it brushed the underside of her breast. The shock of pleasure slammed into her unexpectedly, wanting with every ounce of her being to be hit again. Taking his tongue in her mouth, she sucked on it while pressing her breast into his hand. He groaned in her mouth as his hand cupped her breast. She wondered if touches and kisses were always like this or if this was just Jaqen. Everything about him, every touch, every kiss sent both fire and ice in her vein, burning and scorching her. It felt so good, he felt so good. Suddenly she released his mouth and grasped his face.

“Mine.” She commanded, staring into his half hooded eyes. “You are mine. No matter what happens. Mine alone.”

He eased his hand up from her breast to caress her cheek. “Until my last breath.” He pressed his forehead to hers, both of their chests heaving from the excitement. It was not lost on him the declaration he made, the words pouring forth automatically…for it was the deepest truth he carried in his body. There would never be another like her. Even if he lived several lifetimes over. “Dein ist mein ganzes Herz.”

They stood that way for several long minutes. The declarations, the touches and kisses sinking deep under their skin into their souls.

From the coffee table, Arya’s cellphone began ringing, breaking the revelry and sanctity of the moment. She groaned as Jaqen stepped back, allowing her to slip down. She just managed to catch it on the last ring, seeing the caller ID before picking it up.

“Hey, Jon.”

“Hey…I’ve text you a few times. Everything ok?”

“Yeah, sorry. I left my phone on the coffee table.” She did not need to tell him the coffee table was at Jaqen’s and not her apartment.

“Ok. You want me to pick you up? I can be there after lunch.”

“Sure.”

“Ok, I’ll text you.”

“Thanks, bye.”

“Bye.”

She hung up, staring at her phone for a moment before the screen blacked out. Comforting arms once again wrapped around her and she leaned into the silent solace provided.

“How can I help?”

“What time do you have to go to your office?”

“I took the whole day off…a man is here as long as a lovely girl needs him.”

“Well…” She turned around to face him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Jon isn’t going to be getting me for another two hours at least. Any chance you want to teach me how to defend myself with a knife? Jon bought me a boot knife for Christmas…and I’d like you to teach me…” Her voice trailed off.

“Schöne Mädchen.” He purred, raising a single eyebrow. “Would that make you happy today?”

“Being with you makes me happy.” She pressed a kiss to his jaw.

He pondered for a moment before sighing. The idea of her carrying a knife on her person made him wary. Now that she had it though, he assumed she would insist on using it…and he would rather she know how to handle herself then. “I cannot refuse you.”

“YAY!” She squealed, giving him a quick peck on the lips before dancing away to gather her things. “It’s at my apartment so we can go there. Shireen should not be home until later.”

He smiled at her enthusiasm, pleased she still enjoyed training and learning self-defense. He certainly enjoyed teaching it to her. Following behind her, he quickly cleaned up the kitchen before they headed out, hand in hand, to his car.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo….what did y'all think?  
> I know it was kind of heartfelt fluffy... I thought this chapter was important for furthering their relationship.   
> Comments and kudos are apprciated. Don't forget you guys are the best! Thank you for reading and encourging me along! 
> 
> Sneak peek for next week's chapter:  
> ~Her lips were pulled back in a snarl, eyes blazing. "Let me go, Jaqen."  
> "Schöne Mädchen, listen to..."  
> "I'm not listening. I know what I saw. Just man up and say we are through." She shoved his chest, her anger and hurt tearing into her equally. "Now move the hell out of my way."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears!   
> So this chapter picks up right away from the last one with the anniversary of Ned Stark's death. *tears* Its a bit of a shorter chapter but still important...sorry. The next one will probably be longer to make up for it.   
> Enjoy!

 

Arya laid on the blow-up mattress in Jon’s room, staring at the ceiling. She could hear Jon’s rhythmic breathing from his bed, indicating his peaceful slumber while she tossed and turned. Her mind reviewed her memories of the day in lieu of sleeping. Her expectations of a day clouded with depression actually gave way to the sun. Waking up in Jaqen’s bed had been a wonderful surprise, minus being hung-over, but he took care of that. After lunch Jon had picked her up and together they visited Ned Stark’s gravesite. Arya had not been back since they laid him to rest. They stayed for a short time in the cemetery, sitting next to the gravestone, telling stories and sharing memories of him. In a strange way it was both healing and comforting. _Maybe I won’t forget him after all._ It was also nice to have Jon to herself for once. Usually Gendry or someone else was around and she found she missed their private talks. They understood each other in a unique way. Eventually the cold got to them and they headed back to Jon’s house. The rest of the day was relaxed enough, watching a few of Ned’s favorite movies and eventually playing video games when Gendry arrived. Talk happened and Jon mentioned a group of people were coming over to watch the Superbowl in two weeks. Dany, his official girlfriend now, wanted to also make it a birthday party for him since his birthday was the same day…which he protested. Arya knew Jon hated being the center of attention. Ignoring Gendry, she asked if she could bring Jaqen to watch the Superbowl, figuring it was another American experience he might like. Jon agreed after a hesitation. Soon after Gendry excused himself claiming to be tired. Not saying a word, Jon gave her a long, pointed look which frustrated her. Why was it her fault Gendry could not stand her being with Jaqen? Its not like she was purposefully rubbing it in his face.

Thinking of Jaqen, her fingers toyed with the necklace she now wore. It was a simple silver chain with Jaqen’s coin attached to it. The package arrived in the mail today and it took some extreme distraction to keep Jaqen from noticing it. The chain had a coin holder hanging off of it which Jaqen’s coin easily slipped in to. She wore it under her sweater, the iron cool against her bare skin. Jaqen had told her to keep it hidden…but she liked keeping something special of his with her. It felt like having a part of him with her continuously. _Seven hells! I’m turning into a bloody romantic!_

“Jon.” She whispered, no longer wanting to be alone with her thoughts.

Silence.

“Jon.” She said a little louder.

Silence.

“Ugh. Seven hells.” She grabbed her pillow and tossed it over the end of his bed, hoping it hit him in the face or chest.

“AH! Gods, Arya! I’m awake, dammit!”

She could not help the smirk.

“What is it?” He grumbled, his voice heavy laden with sleep.

“Do you think he would be proud of us? Like who we’ve become?” She knew Jon understood who ‘he’ was even if he was half asleep.

He groaned as he shifted, making the bed frame squeak. “Yes, I believe so. Maybe not you though, you still get into too much trouble.” He tossed her pillow back at her.

“Hey, jerk.” She teased back, but the humor lasted only a second before a blanket of sadness covered her.

He must have sensed the shift in her mood. “Come here.” Jon commanded after a moment, his voice soft and gentle. Arya got up as Jon slid over to make room for her. She lay on her side, on top of the blankets facing Jon. His eyes bored into her, his gray eyes intent on her expression. “He would be proud of you, Arya, don’t doubt that.”

“I know…sometimes I wonder how…things would be different if he was still here.”

Jon sighed running a hand over his mass of curly, dark locks. “Yeah…we would probably have taken that family vacation to see the Grand Canyon he was always talking about.”

“Not sure we’re missing much there. I kept hoping Mother would convince him to take us to Europe instead.”

“Can you imagine all the chaos that would happen if Rickon accidently got lose?”

She smiled. “We’d be able to sneak away and explore on our own.”

“Are Robb and Sansa invited on this imaginary exploration?”

“Maybe Robb but he would make sure we followed all the rules and would probably be texting Father our location every five minutes. Sansa would meet some French or Italian guy and fall head over heels for him and want nothing to do with us.”

Jon snorted, eyes crinkling. “Something would happen and we would get picked up by the police and Uncle Ned would have to come get us out of jail. Your Mother would be furious and we would be quarantined to the hotel for the rest of the trip.”

“Probably…best vacation ever.”

He laughed and she joined in. “Best imaginary vacation ever.”

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke up but more hesitantly. Maybe it was lying in the dark where she felt more bold to ask the questions plaguing her. Maybe it was she knew Jon was a safe person and he would be honest. “How do you know if you’re in love?”

Jon rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling now. “I asked Uncle Ned that one time. I thought I loved a girl in high school. He said love isn’t a feeling, it’s a choice. You can feel lust, you can feel infatuation but love…its something deeper than that. Its being able to look at someone and see the good and the bad and know that your life is better with them in it. Love takes time to grow.”

She thought about his words, letting them sink into her mind. “Do you love Dany?”

“I’m not sure. I like her but I don’t know if its love yet…and you? I’m guessing you’re thinking about Jaqen. Don’t think I didn’t notice the hickey you’ve been trying to hide.”

She blushed and bit her lip, thinking of all the declarations, the spoken and unspoken. How she felt more alive, more like she belonged when she was with him. She only knew hints of his past and the dark shadows of his soul but he was her protector, her friend, the one whose hand she never wanted to let go, who had claimed her heart. “It’s complicated…but I don’t think I’ll ever feel this way about anyone else…he feels like home....like he stepped into my life and the sun finally came out.”

He turned his head, eyebrows raised. “You really like him, don’t you? This isn’t just a fling to piss Gendry off.”

“No, idiot!” She punched his stomach, causing him to cry out. “Gods, is it really that hard to believe?”

“Ouch, dammit.” He groaned. “Can I go back to sleep now or you going to hit me again?”

“I only hit when you deserve it…one last question.”

“Mmmm…”

“When you do you know if you’re ready for sex?”

“NOPE!” He pushed her off the twin size bed as she laughed at his horrified expression. “We are NOT having a sex talk. Gods! As far as I want to know, you will always be a virgin.”

She sat up on the floor, smirking as he covered his face. “Have you and Dany had sex yet?”

“Fish, we are NOT talking about this. I love you but talking about sex is where I draw the line.”

“So…that’s a yes?”

“Good night! Some of us need to sleep and be actual adults tomorrow.”

She could not help but laugh as she climbed over to her mattress. “Adulting is overrated.”

“Stop talking.” He mumbled loudly into his pillow.

She lay there thinking about what Jon had said about love. _Am I in love? Does Jaqen feel the same as I do?_ The bigger question was what happens when he has to leave?

 

* * *

 

A knock on his door normally on a Sunday evening would have surprised him. If anyone, it would be Mrs. McKinney across the hallway bringing him something she baked and making some teasing comments. But a woman called telling him she would be there in fifteen minutes. It surprised him, she had never done anything like this. Questions swarmed his mind but he kept them at bay. She would explain when she arrived. Something was wrong, he could feel it. Who sent her though?

At the sound of the knock, Jaqen jumped up from the couch and opened the door to reveal a woman with red hair and blue eyes in a business suit. At first glance she gave the impression of a journalist of some kind, carrying her overnight bag over her shoulder, a lanyard around her neck and a pen keeping her hair up in a bun. Without a word, he stepped to the side, allowing her to walk into his apartment. He closed and locked the door as she set her bag down and pulled her lanyard off. Bringing her hand up, she touched her forehead and dragged it down until it touched her chin revealing her true face beneath the mask. In the instant the blood magic happened, her red hair changed to black, her pale skin darkened and her eyes changed to the color of topaz.

“Hello, Sister.”

The Spanish assassin eyed her German brother curiously before the corners of her lips turned up. “Its good to see you.”

“A man supposes this is not a social call. What brings you here and so far from the House?”

She slipped her suit jacket off and tossed it on the back of the couch before answering. “A woman has to give the gift.”

“Here in Minnesota?”

“No.”

He rubbed a hand over his chin and mouth. Those of the Order were not to interact with one another if on a mission, only rarely though did their paths usually cross. So if she was not here to give the gift, why was she here? Then a thought made his stomach churn. Does the Principle Master know she is here? Are their doubts of his ability to finish the mission? Does she seek help for her mission?

“Can a woman stay here for the night or are you expecting company?” The raised eyebrow alerted him to her teasing, trying to diffuse the tension created by her sudden appearance.

“Stay please. Can a man offer you something to eat or drink?”

She hesitated a moment before answering. “Any alcohol? We will need it.”

He nodded, then walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of whiskey he kept hidden there along with two glasses. She sat on the couch, having taken her boots off. Setting the glasses down, he poured them each some whiskey while waiting for her to speak.

“The Principle Master does not know of this visit. He did not wish for you to know until after your mission is complete.” She sipped the whiskey, taking her time to continue.

Usually he was patient with his sister, understanding she thought through her words before speaking. Now though, he found it hard to wait for her thoughts to formulate. Something was wrong, every fiber in his body screamed it. What could it be? “Sister…what does a man need to know?”

She turned, meeting his gaze. What surprised him most was the look of panic and fear in her eyes. Never before had he seen her so un-Faceless. He found himself gripping his glass tighter, anymore and he worried the glass would shatter. _What could have caused this?_ “Please, Sister.”

“Our English brother is missing.”

The words landed like a bomb in his mind. The waves of destruction rolling over his thoughts until only carnage was left. There were so many things that statement could mean but none of them were good. He set his untouched drink down, placing his elbows on his knees before running his fingers through his hair. “Tell a man everything.”

So she did. She told him of their brother’s increasing erratic behavior, the drinking, the fights and his strange sullenness in-between. Hauntingly she confessed about their interaction in her workroom…his declaration of affection and desire for them to leave. Three days later he disappeared. No one had been able to locate him using any of the normal channels. Only a few items were gone from his room but nothing to indicate if and when he would return. The Principle Master claimed he had given the English assassin leave to go clear his head after this particularly hard mission. She knew better though. Their English brother would not be returning to the House of Black and White.

“You fear he will seek a man out, yes?” The German assassin asked, feeling slightly hollow after hearing everything. Death was a part of life, especially for assassins. _Valar Morghulis._ If his brother had died, he would have lit a candle for him and missed their time together. This though….this cut him, slipping past his ribs into his core. It felt like a betrayal tinged with fear. The Order would hunt him down…his life was forfeit.

“Yes.” She swirled the amber liquid in her glass. “A woman came to warn you. If he does come, rejection will not be met well.”

“Are you safe?”

She chuckled sadly. “He will not hurt a woman. If anything he will give the gift she was meant to give.”

“Tell a man about your mission.”

They spoke late into the night, the whiskey filling in the voids of conversation. Her flight to Las Vegas did not leave until three in the afternoon the next day. They planned on in the morning further discussing detail of her mission. She gave him a new vial of poison, claiming it more effective to use in a liquid or gas, furthering his options to give the gift to the dead man. When he finally retired to his bed, his mind rummaged through memories of times spent with his English brother. He remembered the laughs, the fights, the insolence of boys and always having one another’s backs. _What happened to you, brother? What did we miss? What happens now?_ He wondered what he would do…what he would say if his brother did come to him. Could he help his brother somehow or would he be forced to give him over to the Order? All of it settled in his gut like a hot coal, painful and without hope of release. There was nothing he could do now. _Focus on the mission. Valar Dohaeris._ Sleep did not come that night.

 

* * *

 

Taking the elevator up to this apartment, Arya fiddled with her coin necklace as she bounced on her toes, the excessive amount of caffeine made her unable to be still. Work had been steady since the doors opened at five that morning. At one point, one of the guys she had been working with convinced her to do shots of espresso with him. Normally she would not, straight espresso not being her thing, but he turned it into a challenge…and who was she to turn down competition? They stopped at eight shots a piece, both buzzling like live wires. She was no longer tired but knew the crash would hit hard and fast later. Coming out of the elevator, she tucked her necklace under she shirt and walked down the hallway as she adjusted her grip on the paper bag. There were some pieces of cinnamon coffeecake that broke just enough that they could not be served at work. So Arya gathered them up since they were still good and fresh, deciding to surprise Jaqen and leave them in his fridge. He probably was at his office already, his office hours start in two hours. Quickly she pulled her keys out of her coat pocket and unlocked Jaqen’s apartment door. As the door opened, she immediately noticed the lights were still on, which was odd. Jaqen always turned the lights off when he left. _Maybe he was in a rush this morning?_ She took a step inside, looking around then froze. Her mind raced to understand what her eyes were seeing. Sitting casually on a bar stool was a beautiful woman. Her long, raven hair hung loosely to her lower back, looking like she had been interrupting in brushing it. She wore a white spaghetti strap tank top, highlighting the beautiful color of her dark skin and a pair of loose sweatpants. _Jaqen’s sweatpants._ Her mind recalled seeing him wear them last week as they watched a movie on his couch.

“Who the hell are you?” Arya spat out, eyes never leaving the stranger’s. This was not her apartment but the notion of another woman here…this early…wearing Jaqen’s clothing did not form a good impression.

The woman set her brush down she had been holding onto the counter before turning on the stool to face her fully. The woman looked her up and down, a coy smile on her face causing Arya to grit her teeth. “A woman could ask you the same question but she already knows.”

_What in seven hells was that supposed to mean?_ A damning realization hit her as her mind fully took in all her eyes were seeing and processed it. _I knew he was too good to be true. Gods, how stupid of me! Someone as smart and handsome as him would never want to be with me…they would want to be with her._ A tsunami wave of anger crashed over her and she felt pricks from tears pooling in her eyes. The nail on the coffin happened when she heard a door opening and turned to see Jaqen stepping out of the bathroom in just a pair of sweatpants. His eyes widened when they met hers and he quickly glanced over to the woman sitting at his counter, who wore a smirk. That did it.

“FUCK YOU!” She dropped the paper bag on the ground unceremoniously before storming out of the apartment, not even bothering to close the door behind her. Her emotions raged but no way in hell was she going to let him see her cry over him. If anything she wanted to punch his gorgeous face…and definitely castrate him. _I’m so stupid._

As soon as Arya left, Jaqen leapt after her without a second thought. He raced into the hallway, his sole fixation being on finding Arya. In her eyes he witnessed the hurt, anger and betrayal that stopped his heart. He had to clarify the situation. He had to fix this. His chest ached thinking about her hating him. In their time together, he only wanted to bring her joy and comfort…not this. Not this pain and betrayal. Seeing her stomping away, he called out as his feet carried him forward. “Arya, wait!” She had only gotten two doors down for his swift reaction and desperation allowed him to catch up. Reaching out a hand, he grabbed her shoulder which she immediately knocked off, ignoring him. “Arya, stop!” He grabbed her, turning her. He pushed her back up against the hallway wall so she was forced to face him.

Her lips were pulled back in a snarl, eyes blazing. “Let me go, Jaqen.”

“Schöne Mädchen, listen to…”

“I’m not listening. I know what I saw. Just man up and say we are through.” She shoved his chest, her anger and hurt tearing into her equally. “Now move the hell out of my way.”

He growled, frustrated with her stubbornness and inability to see past her hurt. “No, we are not through!”

“The hell we are. You’ve got a bloody harlot in your apartment. If you thought this was some kind of open relationship, I’m out!” 

“Nein.” He cupped her face even though she fought it. He needed her to see the truth in his eyes, to hear the honesty in his voice, to feel the care in his touch. “You are mine and I am yours, until my last breath, yes? Does a foolish girl remember?”

“Then who is she?” The tears threatened to fall but she forced them back. Gray eyes stared into bronze eyes, desperately asking for understanding. _I want to believe him._

“She is a man’s…sister. She had to make a trip to America and managed to stop and visit.”

“What…?” _Oh shit._ Her brain’s processing speed ceased as it turned over the word ‘sister’ repeatedly. “She’s your sister?”

“In a sense. We have known each other many years and I trust her with my life.” Moving slowly he pressed his forehead against hers, sensing her anger drain away. He told her far more about his sister than he should but the words poured out, hoping she would trust him. “Arya, I would never hurt you like that. Please believe that.”

She sighed feeling like the biggest ass in the world. If she had not just assumed and actually asked, she could have avoided this whole dramatic thing in the first place. Her mind still fumbled over the title ‘sister’ but she accepted it. The truth in his words rung out clearly into her soul. Bringing her hands up, she placed them on his bare chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat. “I’m sorry. I’m still waiting for you to find someone prettier and more interesting than me one day and run off with her.”

“Nein.” He kissed her lips gently before leaning back to look into her face. “Mein Herzallerliebste…would you like to meet her?”

“Think she wants to meet me after all this?”

He chuckled. “Especially after this.” Leaning back, he took one of her hands in his. Before he could begin leading her back to his apartment, a long wolfish whistle echoed in the hallway. Facing the sound, he was greeted by his neighbor leaning against her doorframe watching the spectacle. “Good morning, Mrs. McKinney.” He tugged on Arya’s hand so they could return to his place. She followed, hand firmly grasping his.

“Oh it’s a very good morning, pretty boy.” The elderly lady leered at him, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. “Whose the lucky girl here?”

“This is my girlfriend, Arya.”

“Pleasure to meet you, dearie. You are quite the lucky girl.”

“Thanks. I think I’ll keep him a while longer.” Arya teased, purposefully running her hand over his naked, sculpted torso. _Damn, this should be illegal. I want to climb him like a tree. I think he shouldn’t be allowed to wear a shirt when we are alone anymore._

Mrs. McKinney laughed, her voice raspy and the laugh ending in a cough. “Let me know when you’re done with him, dearie.” She gave Arya an over-the-top wink and quick smile to Jaqen before stepping back into her apartment.

“Apparently you have an admirer…” Arya giggled as Jaqen pushed her towards his still open apartment door. For some reason the elderly lady blatantly ogling him amused her and she had to bite her tongue to silence her continued giggling.

Jaqen grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him, nuzzling her neck to make her squirm. “Schöne Mädchen.” He growled softly as he kicked the door shut behind him. It would be so easy to turn them around and press her against the door before ravishing her lips until she moaned his name…something he quite enjoyed doing. Now was not the time. Looking up, he caught his sister’s eye. Unmoved from her seat at the counter, she watched them with a guarded expression. He understood the event of rushing after Arya to fix her perception spoke volumes of his emotions to his insightful sister. This was not just a cover. He gave her the briefest of nods, confirming her suspicions. He trusted she would not speak of this to anyone. Her eyes softened marginally as if accepting and regretting his unspoken statement before focusing on the girl still in his arms.

“Hello again.”

Arya met the hazel eyes of the strange woman- Jaqen’s sister/friend. “Hey…sorry about earlier…” she stumbled out awkwardly, still entwined in Jaqen’s arms, “…and for calling you a harlot.”

The Spanish assassin raised her eyebrows slightly before the corners of her lips turned up. “I’ve been called worse. I’m Anna.” She turned her gaze to Jaqen. “Are you going to put a shirt on?”

He smirked, squeezing Arya’s shoulders quick before retreating towards his room.

With impeccable timing, Arya’s phone began to ring. Quickly she answered the call while grabbing the paper bag off the floor, her original intent for coming over to Jaqen’s. “Hello?”

“Hey, Arya!” Shireen happily greeted. “Where are you? I though your shift was over by now.”

 “Yeah, I stopped by Jaqen’s.” She placed the bag in the fridge, feeling the gaze of the woman still at the counter watching her.

“Oh ok. Tell lava cake ‘hi’ for me! Tommen and I are going to see a movie tonight if you want to come with us.”

“I’ll ask.”

“Ok, see you later maybe!”

“Bye.” Arya ended the call, staring at the screen lost in thought for a moment before the bubble burst.

“Lava cake?” The woman asked smiling. Her eyes flickered to the short hallway where Jaqen stood with arms crossed over his now-covered chest, watching Arya.

“Ah yeah…that’s what my friends call Jaqen now…” A heat from embarrassment colored Arya’s cheeks. A look at Jaqen showed a single eyebrow raised, his indication for her to continue her explanation. _Shit._ “Well…they think…Shit…Shireen thinks he’s all romantic and gooey on the inside while he looks like a bad boy on the outside.” She rushed out the end before pressing her hands over her face. A silent paused had her wondering how badly she ruined everything before the unexpected happened. Peals of laughter erupted from the dark-skinned beauty, her head thrown back in merriment. Even Jaqen stood there shaking his head but an amused grin on his face. Arya watched the turn of events and wondered if she misjudged everything too quickly. Perhaps she could get along with Jaqen’s friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did y'all think? Lemme know. 
> 
> Next week's sneak peek:  
> ~The German assassin rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin as he set his phone down. Two days. The timeline of the gift to be given was set.~


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! So just a heads up but I'm thinking there will be between 4-5 chapters left of this story. AH! I cannot believe its almost over.  
> On that note: Enjoy this week's longer chapter. You're welcome. ;)

 

 

“Seven hells, how long do we have to sit here?” Arya dropped her head onto the lab table groaning.

Shireen sighed, her own bored frustration evident. “Until they copulate.”

Arya peeked an eye open to glare at the petri dish between her and Shireen. In the dish were three bean beetles, two males and one female running around the small enclosure, completely ignoring one another. The two students were already twenty minutes into this grouping with no results so far. For their Biology lab, they were supposed to be timing how long it takes for the bean beetles to have sex, depending on how many males there were- sexual competition. So the hypothesis was the more males, the faster one of the males would jump the female. _This is even stupider than the condom experiment._ _Lucky Hot Pie is sick so he doesn’t have to be here._

“If nothing happens by thirty minutes I think we should start over.” Shireen stated, staring at the timer on her phone they were using. “Hey, you never finished telling me what you and lava cake did for your first Valentine’s. Was he all romantic? Oh, did he forget? No, he seems way to put together to forget. Don’t think I didn’t notice you spent the night too. Did you use up all those condoms yet?”

“Shireen! Gods!” Arya sat up, leveling a glare at her smirking friend. “I still can’t believe you managed to get them all in my backpack. That was so embarrassing!”

“So…details, girl. You promised.”

“Ugh. Fine. He picked me up after my class and we drove over to Wisconsin. You remember his car, right? Its really fast. Well he told me he likes to drive…helps clear his head. I guess that’s how he found this spot. Anyway, he found this back road that is pretty much abandoned. He let me drive his car. It was really fun, I’ve never driven over 100mph before but gods, it was awesome! It felt like we were flying over the pavement.”

Shireen raised her eyebrows, eyes widening. “Wow, he must really trust you.”

“I guess…I think he just wanted to share something with me that’s meaningful to him. After that, we pulled over and shot guns at some targets.”

“Wait! He has guns?”

“Ah, just a handgun. He’s been teaching me to defend myself, right? I guess he figured this was important too. Once we got cold, well, I got cold, we drove back to his apartment and watched a movie. I fell asleep on the couch…so he just moved me to his bed.”

“That is soooo anti-climactic.” Shireen drawled out, rolling her eyes.

Arya shrugged, unphased by her friend’s romantic expectations. Truthfully she loved what Jaqen had done. It was not the typical romantic, cheesy Valentine’s with chocolates, flowers or a giant stuffed bear. It was more…them. Something dangerous, fun and relaxing. _What a strange combination._

“So you two still haven’t had sex?”

Arya fidgeted. “No…”

“But you love him?”

She opened her mouth then closed it, staring at her finger as she traced random patterns on the table. The conversation between her and Jon had been in the forefront of her mind for days now. _Is this love?_ She never wanted to be one of those girls who fell in love frequently, preferring to avoid love as long as possible. Love was a double-edged sword, giving its owner both joy and pain. Her mind recalled the fervent kisses between her and Jaqen as they declared ‘mine’ over one another, how his name, his very being felt branded onto her soul. She would never be the same without him, and her world would be darker without him in it. “Yes,” she whispered as the confession seemed to both lift a burden from her shoulders and weigh her down with their truth, “I think so.”

Shireen smiled softly at the admission. “Its been obvious for a while. Whenever you talk or think about him your face lights up…and you seem more at peace. I’m happy for you.”

“At the end of the semester he is leaving to go back home. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Gods, I don’t want him to go.”

“Well maybe he can be a TA again next year, or you go study there. You have a couple months to figure it out still. You’ll make it work, if anything he doesn’t seem like he wants to leave you anytime soon…oh look! They are finally copulating! It’s been twenty-seven minutes.”

Arya wrote down the number on their data sheet, her mind still thinking about her newfound declaration of love. _Will this change things? I know he cares for me…but does he love me the same?_ She wondered if she was making this more complicated than it needed to be. Shireen interrupted her musing again.

“Hey, you going to Jon’s on Sunday for the Superbowl still, right?”

“Yeah, Jaqen is going to come late. He said he has some meeting he has to go to first.”

“A meeting on a Sunday evening? Weird. Whatever. Well if you need to get away, you can come rescue me from having to sit through it with my dad.”

Arya winced, very glad to miss the disaster of being around Stannis Baratheon watching football. “I’ll keep that in mind. Can we be done for today now? I’m hungry.”

“Fiiiine…I’m sure you’re hungry for more than just food though.” Shireen winked as she grabbed the petri dish to return the beetles to their glass tank.

Arya’s mouth dropped at the not-so-subtle comment then giggled. Truth be told, it was true.

 

* * *

 

 

The German assassin stood against the far wall, surveying the meeting before him. He wore a false face, the expression neutral as he gazed through blue eyes. His new hair was dark and buzzed. An elaborate tattoo of a skull decorated the right side of his neck along with the other detailed tattoos on his arms and hands. He could not help thinking of his English brother and how he would approve of the tattoos. That though brought a sharp pain of betrayal and regret that the master assassin dismissed easily. Now was not the time. _Valar Dohaeris._

In the center of the room, sitting in plush, high-back chairs were the two men whom he had spent months watching and waiting for. Tywin Lannister sipped on a glass of scotch casually, his intense eyes focused on his companion beside him. An aura of power and control hung about him that was accentuated by his expensive suit, sharp features and clipped manner of speaking. The dead man had not been foolish enough to not bring his own protection to his meeting- hence how the German assassin stood watching the meeting without needing to be hidden. Using some unscrupulous resources, the professor hired three bodyguards who were positioned around the large room in the penthouse suite rented for this meeting. It had been fairly easy to make sure the German assassin was one of the bodyguards hired. The irony of the situation was not lost on him- hired as a bodyguard to only later kill him after months of planning his death. _Valar Morghulis._

His attention turned to the other man beside the professor who held his own glass of expensive vodka. The Red Snake was a thin man, looking more like a scholar than a mobster, but his eyes missed nothing behind his thin-framed glasses. The assassin could practically see the Russian’s mind spinning a million miles per minute. He was intelligent, the world was his chessboard and he was a master player. Once the meeting was concluded and the German assassin reported to his Master, he would propose one of his brothers infiltrate and eliminate this Red Snake. He was far too insidious and with the secrets the professor was sharing, a underground war had the potential to be waged. Better to kill the general soon and hopefully the secrets too. The assassin glanced at the four men the Russian brought with him, mesmerizing their faces. They would need to be eliminated also.

The sound of feminine giggling drifted from under the door to his left. Behind that door was the women for tonight’s entertainment for the Russians. The professor made sure to spare no expense on setting up the meeting and accommodations for the man he needed to impress to further their business interactions. The two men quietly spoke for two hours while their separate bodyguards looked on silently. The tension easily discernable as both men assessed the other and subtly manipulated to their own ends. It was a game, this type of conversation, to glean weakness and vantage points of the other meanwhile pressing one’s own offense. New relations were drawn, a cemented business agreement made, but without trust on either side. Finally the dead man rose, the meeting over. Strained pleasantries were passed and a signal given for the scantily-clad women to enter the room. The German assassin fell into step behind the dead man whom walked out of the penthouse and towards the elevator like he alone possessed the world and all its inhabitants needed to bow to him. The assassin kept a hand loosely on the handgun in its holster on his side, not that he expected the Russians to attack but he wanted to be on alert. It would displease him greatly if a lucky shot was made to end the professor’s life…it was his job to kill the man. With everything he heard in the meeting, he would receive far greater pleasure with silencing the man permanently. Along with the other hired bodyguards, he escorted the dead man to a prior designated safe location and once there, they were dismissed after receiving their full payment.

Taking unnecessary amount of precautions of making sure he was not being followed and his true identity being hidden, he returned to his vehicle parked several blocks from the penthouse. Once inside, he retracted his false face and called his Master.

“What news?” The Principle Master needed no greeting, his sole focus on the information gained.

“It is as we feared. The dead man sold our secret. The Red Snake knows how to find us. His real name is Sergey Sokolov. A man suggests one of his brothers be at the airport to pick up the Red Snake and his bodyguards and make sure they are never seen again. Their flight leaves for Moscow tomorrow afternoon.”

“Very good. Wait two days then complete your mission. Valar Morghulis.”

“Valar Dohaeris.”

Click.

The German assassin rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin as he set his phone down. Two days. The timeline of the gift to be given was set. With the secrets sold so effortlessly by the dead man, silencing him could not come soon enough. Rage stoked within his chest thinking of the arrogance the man carried, thinking himself untouchable, immune to the repercussions of his actions. If only he knew. Faceless Men do not take well to betrayal. Soon though…very soon he would learn his mistake.

He glanced at the time on his dashboard before turning his car on. Pulling out of his parking spot, he drive towards the sole reason a sliver of dread sliced through his anger. He did not want to leave her. Sending her a quick text, he said he was on his way. While driving, his mind finalized his plan for killing the dead man. Yet with each step towards completing his mission, it was a step away from her. His mind returned to the meeting between the dead man and the Red Snake, piecing together what other information for the Order to know and utilize.

 

* * *

 

 

Cheers erupted as the favored team completed a touchdown. Arya smiled at the excitement flooding the room, those in the cramped living room focused on the TV where the Superbowl played. Jon’s friend, Grenn, bumped her shoulder with his much higher one beside her on the couch as he cheered loudly. She rolled her eyes but the smile remained on her face. They had been trading insults and barbs throughout the game so far, all in good humor. It was pleasant to have someone to razz and kill time with while waiting. As the elation died down with commercials coming on, she peeked down at her phone in her lap. No text. _Where is Jaqen?_ He told her there was a meeting he had to attend and he would arrive when done. Even when she pressed, he refused to tell her more. Somehow she knew this meeting was not due to academics…but his real job. Whatever that was. His real reason for being in Minnesota. Worry gnawed her gut. They had not spoken of his true intentions for being here beyond the night they fought and had their first kiss. An implicit understanding kept her fervent questions silenced, he could not speak of it and for her safety she could not know. It bothered her but she accepted it. Her curiosity held at bay with the knowledge he was safer with her ignorance. Tonight though, her concern grew with each passing hour he was gone. _He can protect himself. He’ll be fine._

Jon’s gray eyes caught hers from the other couch, borrowed from a friend’s house to accommodate the number of people. His arm was behind Dany, pulling her against his side as they sat together on the couch. He scrutinized Arya, probably wondering why she was not as loud and boisterous during the game as she usually was. She gave him a quick half-smile, trying to assure him everything was ok. That only seemed to darken his impression. Before he could go concerned-big-brother on her, she jumped up to grab another pop from the fridge in the kitchen. Most of the people there were drinking beer or whatever hard liquor they brought, she was the only one underage…and Jon had been adamant about her not drinking especially since she was not spending the night. _Jerk._ However, having been watching how Dany could not keep her hands off Jon, Arya doubted Jon would be sleeping alone tonight. Grabbing a coke from out of the fridge, she popped the top before turning to see who else lingered about her. A couple options of pizzas resided along the counter beside the dozen plus empty beer cans. Near that stood Theon, Gendry and one of the other roommates of the house, Marcus.

“…started re-watching The Walking Dead.” Marcus was saying, holding his beer lazily. He played football for the Minnesota Gophers, so Arya rarely saw him at the house whenever she was over. He worked out all the time with the other guys to stay in shape. He was nice, friendly enough but pretty obsessed with his passion of sports and did not pay much attention to the little sister of his roommate.

“Naw, Breaking Bad. Now that’s the shit.” Theon commented then caught her eye. “Hey, Arya. What do you think?”

She shrugged before taking the few steps over to join them, Theon to her right and Gendry to her left. When Theon arrived, she had been genuinely surprised since Robb was not here. All she could guess was that somehow Theon found out about the party, did not have anything better to do and decided to just show up. Which was not atypical of him to do. On the flip side, Gendry had been actively staying away from her during the night. She could feel his eyes on her sometimes but he did not engage with her. She had not yet decided if she was frustrated or pleased. It felt like lately whenever they spoke it was stressed and uncomfortable. Truthfully a part of her missed her friend, the easy comradery they had prior and how he always made her feel better. Now though, it was different and she suspected their prior friendship was lost.

She scowled at Theon, setting her can down behind her. “The real question is why are you here? Who invited you?”

Theon laughed before taking a sip of his beer. “I bring the fun. It’s not a party without me. Now, answer the damn question.”

“Fine. I’m going with Marcus. The Walking Dead is better. I keep hearing I need to watch Orange is the New Black though.”

“Ooo…some girl-on-girl action, huh?” Theon slid next to her, placing his arm around her shoulders. “Let me know if you want to experiment in real life…perhaps a threesome would be fun.” He wiggled his eyebrows as he blatantly leered at her. Having grown up with Theon, Arya knew he was just teasing. It was obvious, death would come swiftly to him if he ever tried to hook up with Arya or Sansa by Robb and Jon’s hands. Before Arya could make a sarcastic remark and push him off, someone else stepped in.

Gendry moved and shoved Theon off her unnecessarily rough, causing him to stumble back against the kitchen counter. “Don’t talk about her like that.” He growled out, stepping between them and planting himself.

“What the fuck, dude?” Theon straightened back up, glaring at Gendry.

“She’s not one of your hoes to play with.”

“Right, and you’re just jealous she’s got a boyfriend. Whatever, man. Fuck off.” With that, Theon stomped out, back to the living room to watch the game.

Arya could hear Marcus shift and slip out of the kitchen also. Not that she blamed him. Gendry stood slightly in front of her, still facing the way Theon disappeared. His shoulders were tense and fists clenched. The air crackled with the tension around him.

“You didn’t have to do that. Theon is all talk. He wouldn’t try anything.” She crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed that Gendry stepped in.  

He rolled his shoulders before facing her. “Doesn’t make it ok for him to say.”

“Yeah, ok. You didn’t have to start a fight though.”

“You could just say ‘thank you’ for looking out for you.” He snapped at her as the tension mounted between them.

Her eyebrows practically touched her hairline. “Or you could pull your head out of your ass and realize Theon was just teasing. I can take care of myself.”

“You’ve made that pretty clear.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She hissed before lifting her hands up and taking a step back. “You know what, forget it. Its not worth it.” She turned and started walking down the hallway towards the front door. Between her worry for Jaqen compounded with Jon and Gendry’s overprotectiveness, she desperately needed some air. _Maybe I should just head home, the buses are still going. I’ll text Jaqen to meet me there._

Once she was about halfway down the hallway, she heard stomping behind her and whirled to see Gendry towering over her. Instinctively she took a step back and planted her feet, Jaqen’s training kicking in.

His vivid blue eyes burned with the intensity of a hurricane, devastation bound to happen in its wake. “Dammit, Arya. Why can’t you let people help you? You don’t have to do everything alone.”

“I’m not doing this.” She turned to walk away but he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her roughly against the wall. The drywall of the hallway greeted her back without any cushion causing her to wince. Using her momentum she swung her opposite fist to collide solidly with Gendry’s jaw. He reeled back two steps, caught off guard by her attack. His hand touched his jaw as his eyes remained glued to her. Cheering from the living room made her wonder momentarily if anyone even heard them. The pain radiated from her hand and caused her to look down. Her knuckles were red but a quick glanced made her think that nothing was broken. _Why does no one tell you how much punching someone hurts?_

“Are you hurt?” Gendry asked softly, rubbing his jaw, still watching her. He stepped forward and reached a hand out to take her injured one. Immediately she recoiled, bringing it to her small chest and covering it with her other hand.

“Don’t touch me.”

He sighed before moving closer to her. “Dammit, let me see it. Arya, please. Did you break anything?” His voice had softened, genuine concern attempting to caress and soothe her.

“BACK OFF!” She yelled, uncaring if anyone heard. _Air, I just need air and space._ Her heart felt like it was beating a million miles per minute, her lungs could not get enough oxygen, her breaths becoming sharp and ragged. She had never had a panic attack before, but if this was what they felt like, she never wanted to experience it again. _I just need to get outside. I just need air._

Within moments of her shout, footfalls landed in the hallway coming from the front door. Next thing she knew Gendry was practically thrown against the wall across from her. His body slammed against the wall, making it shake, but surprisingly he kept his feet under him. The wall shuddered under the force and weight heaved against it. Time felt frozen. What tension or friction had been in the air before redoubled in consequence. The sounds of those in the living room sounded far away, as if she was hearing it through a tunnel. Her eyes, her focus was trapped by the open hostility before her.

Jaqen stood in front of her, shielding her. His body and mind prepared for a physical altercation. “Harm her again and I will kill you.” His voice was low and dangerous as he spoke the threat. The jealous boy would be favoring his left shoulder and side after the impact. It would not take long to incapacitate him. They may be the same height and Jaqen more slender, but he knew how to utilize the weaknesses of his opponents instead of just attacking. The fight would not take long. A brief shift of his eyes confirmed that Arya stood frozen behind him, eyes wide. She would need to be moved before the jealous boy attacked. Jaqen had only been in the house for less than five minutes, trying to find her when he heard her yell. It sent his feet flying towards her sound. In the few moments of time until he saw her against the wall, Gendry standing intimidatingly over her, his mind flipped through all the worst case scenarios for her need to defend herself. Anger rolled and swelled within him, blinding him to those watching around them. She was hurt and it was the jealous boy’s fault. She felt attacked and it was the jealous boy’s fault. The air felt electric and Jaqen knew it would only take the smallest spark to set him off. Damn Facelessness. This was his Schöne Mädchen. He would defend her until his dying breath.

Arya recovered from her momentary shock as Gendry stood up fully, ardent eyes solely focused on Jaqen now. The tension rolling off the two was gagging. If you stuck a knife in the air, it would probably hang weightlessly for the tension holding it up. Although she would not mind Gendry getting his ass kicked, in the moment she did not think Jaqen would stop himself. The two were obviously itching for a fight, ready to go at each other’s throats in a heartbeat. Nothing good would come out of this and she worried a body bag would be needed. There was no way Gendry would win this fight. She took the half step closer to Jaqen and put her hand on his arm. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t deserve her.” Gendry spat through clenched teeth. His eyes did not waver from Jaqen’s face.

Jaqen leaned forward slightly, lips curled back in a snarl. “Watch what you say, boy. There will be consequences.”

Before Gendry could retort, Arya spoke up. “Gendry, shut up! Jaqen, let’s go.” She tugged on Jaqen’s arm to no avail. Jaqen and Gendry’s eyes held each other, assessing one another and waiting to make a move. “Come on, let’s get outta here.”

Without removing his eyes, Jaqen wrapped his arm around Arya’s shoulders before sending one last glare. With that, he turned and guided them towards the front door and outside into the cold, ignoring all the stares of those trying to watch the impending fight. The TV momentarily forgotten. Jaqen and Arya walked to his car, parked along the side of the street. Before he opened the passenger side door for her, he turned her so she was facing him.

“Let me see your hand.”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He narrowed his eyes, undeterred from his request.

She met his gaze for a few seconds before rolling her eyes and lifting up her hand. “Fine.” Taking it gently, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand, along the knuckles and individual fingers.

“I punched Gendry.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her as he continued his examination.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. See, I’m fine.”

Using her hand, he pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. “Mein Liebling…ein Mädchen hat mehr Mut als Sinn.” He whispered, letting the last of his anger drift away with the winter breeze. A part of him was proud she defended herself while the rest of him raged that she had been forced to. He wished for nothing more than to cocoon her in his arms and protect her from those in the world who would harm her. She deserved laughter, love and joy. Yet the world kept throwing pain and struggles at her. Her shiver brought him back to the moment. “Where is your coat?”

“Well…we didn’t exactly have time to grab it as we were leaving now, did we?”

“Would you like me to retrieve it?”  

She looked up at him and smiled faintly. “I doubt that’s a good idea right now. Let’s go to your place and you can feed me.”

“A lovely girl is always hungry.” He teased before kissing her tenderly. They got into his car, making sure to have the heat blazing and drove to his apartment. Words were not spoken during the drive, a companionable silence filling the air. They held hands though as if using each other as a tether to reality and to not drift away with their thoughts.

 

 

 

“Hey, how was your meeting?” Arya asked a short time later as they relaxed on his couch. She leaned against his side while his arm was around her lower back, hand gently stroking her hip. The TV was on but she could sense his attention was elsewhere.

He rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin, pulled back into reality. “As expected.” Honestly, the extent of secrets sold by the dead man caused turmoil in him, burrowing beneath his skin like an itch he could not scratch. Only death would heal the pain. Two days.

After waiting several seconds to see if he would say more, she sighed and turned to face him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing important.”

“Yeah…I don’t believe that.” Whipping herself around, and surprisingly not hurting herself or Jaqen in the process, she straddled his legs on the couch. A momentary look of shock crossed his face as she moved then became replaced by a small, amused smile. She placed one of her hands on his side while the other hand toyed with his white forelock. “Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”

He stared intently at her face, hoping to memorize every facet of her that he could. Deliberately placing his hands on her hips, he tugged her slightly closer. “Nothing for you to worry about.” He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her collarbone, feeling her shiver beneath his touch.

“Stop trying to distract me…I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”

“Does a lovely girl find a man distracting?” He purred as his lips grazed along her throat upward to her ear.

“On occasion…” _Or all the time, let’s be honest._ Before his lips caught her ear, she grabbed his face between her hands. Pulling him back, she met his eyes. “Jaqen, talk to me, please. Is this about what happened at the house earlier?”

His shoulders slumped as he leaned forward and rested his face in the crook of her neck. Her arms automatically circled his back, pulling him close. Oh what he would give to stay in this moment forever. But times does not stop, no matter how much you beg it to. No matter how much you will it to. Time is continuous and a moment lasts only that…a moment.

“A man’s time here is almost over.” He breathed out hesitantly. The confession felt like a knife to the stomach, the pain seeping out his strength. He felt her stiffen at his statement, the haunting truth they both were trying desperately to ignore, thrown in their faces like a bucket of cold water. His hands skimmed up and down her sides, hoping to be a reassuring touch as she sat mutely.

“You have to leave before the end of the semester?” The question quietly drifting from her lips, hoping for a different response.

“I’m not sure…I hope to stay…but the decision is not mine.”

“Will you at least get to say good-bye?”

He sat back up and cupped her face. “I will not leave you without saying good-bye. I promise.”

She nodded then leaned forward, pressing her lips to his softly. The realization of his impending departure rattled around in her head but she shoved it aside. He was still here. Her arms still around him. That was her truth. That was what she chose to believe right now. She opened her mouth to deepen the kiss and he responded, a hint of desperate passion slipping in. That passion rapidly exploded in both of their chests and soon their breathing was ragged from refraining to seek air. Her hands were wrapped in his hair, tugging, pulling, wanting more…wanting him closer. His tongue dragged along her neck and in between his nips and sucks on her pale, soft skin. His hands kneaded her hips and ass, responding to her sighs and moans.

“Jaqen…”

Her sweet murmur sent shock waves of pleasure through his body. There never had been nor ever would be a more beautiful sound than her enraptured, sighing out his name. His name. His name. Pulling back he grabbed her chin, her half-hooded eyes blearily meeting his. “Lukas.”

“What?”

“Say it. Lukas.”

“Lukas.” She whispered confused for a moment before a sudden lightbulb clicked. “Is that your real name?”

He nodded, words failing him in the moment. Years had it been since anyone had spoken his name from childhood…his birth name. So many painful memories tied to that name. A name that no longer described him…but it rang true more than a name picked out for him to fulfill a mission. That name, Jaqen H’ghar, was a façade. This passion, this moment between him and the one his heart longed for, this was real. In the moment he wanted…no, needed to hear her say his real name. He did not have much longer with her and what time they did have left, he wanted to be authentic.

Still holding his eyes, she tugged her chin out of his hand then grabbed the hem of her sweater and yanked it over her head. The sweater fell to the floor unnoticed as their eyes could only see each other. His eyes traced over her body, leaving a trail of fire in its path. There was no embarrassment for her, still straddling his lap in yoga pants and a sports bra. If anything she felt empowered seeing his response and wanting to share a part of herself no one else had seen, like him sharing his name.

“I want you.” She kissed him deeply, a warmth filling her body that sought him, sought his touch. “I want you now.”

“Schöne Mädchen, are you certain? I will not force this upon you.”

“Yes, gods, yes. I won’t regret this…I won’t regret you. Please.”

“One condition…” He smirked, bronze eyes gleaming with lust and passion. “…when you cry out in pleasure, you say my real name.”

She laughed as she ran her hands under his shirt and up his chest. Shifting her hips forward to feel him underneath her, she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Lukas, I want you to make love to me. I want you inside me and all over me.”

As the last word slipped over her tongue, he abruptly picked her up, pressing their bodies together tightly. Her legs wrapped automatically around his waist as she tossed her head back with a startled laugh. He chuckled lustily as he continued to place hot, open-mouth kisses along her neck and chest, carrying her towards his bedroom. Once there, he dropped her on the bed before crawling over her body to hover over her. A wicked smile illuminated his face. “Mein Liebling…my Arya…you will be screaming my name before I am done pleasuring you.”

She smiled, eyes alight, as she seductively raised her hands above her head, giving him complete control. “Do your worst.”

“As you wish.”

 

* * *

 

 

Arya woke up in a happy haze, a smile already on her lips. Her naked body lay pressed against Jaqen’s also naked form spooning. His deep breathing surprised her, apparently still sleeping. Not that she was inclined to wake him up or move herself. Shifting minimally to press herself further into his embrace, the heat of his body warmed her physically and mentally. His breathing paused for a moment and she feared she woke him up. Yet it picked back up and he tightened the arm he had slung loosely over her waist. She wondered what time it was. It was Monday so she had class and he had his office hours…but the notion of leaving Jaqen’s warmth and soft bed to be jarred back to reality sounded extremely unappealing. Her mind drifted to the prior night and all the…pleasurable things that had occurred. Gods, in between her legs was sore but not painful. Just a friendly reminder of what had occurred. She blushed thinking about it. Who knew you could have so many orgasms in one night? Gods, the things he could do with his hands and tongue were plain sinful but his other appendage…that was far better than she could have ever guessed. They fit so well together, in more than one way. She knew deep down in her core, there would never be another who felt like they were as much a part of her soul as he was. He was home. Cuddling closer, she entwined their feet, content and happy, trying to soak in this memory as much as possible.

 “Mmmm…is a lovely girl still ravenous? Is a fourth time needed to fully sate my siren?” He asked, voice heavy with sleep still. His face was pressed into her hair, breathing in her- his joy.

“Good morning, Lukas.”

“It is a very good morning.” He bit her shoulder lightly causing her to squirm and grind her ass against his groin. A throaty groan escaped him at the sensation. “I must ask a favor of you, Mein Liebling.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“My name…”

“Do you not want me to say it? You wanted me to say it last night.”

He nuzzled her hair, tightening his grip around her waist. “I love hearing you say it…I enjoy it even more when you cry it out.” He kissed her neck teasingly. “But it would be wisest to only use it between us and in the strictest places of privacy. Do you understand? I am Jaqen H’ghar here and if it is discovered otherwise, there will be negative consequences.”

“I promise. Outside of the bedroom you are Jaqen, in bed you are Lukas.” She replied cheekily.

He chuckled as he opened his eyes, noticing her tattoo fully exposed to him.  On her left shoulder blade was a small tattoo of a howling wolf with a crescent moon behind it in a tribal design. He had noticed it on prior occasions but this was the first time he was able to examine it. “Why a wolf for your tattoo?” He quietly asked as he traced the simple yet elegant design with his finger.

“What? Oh, wolves are…sort of like my family’s crest or symbol, per se. My father used to say all the time, ‘the lone wolf dies but the pack survives’. Together we are stronger. I got the tattoo for my eighteenth birthday to remember my father and my family. It’s like a constant reminder of who I am and where I came from. ”

He absorbed her words as he continued to trace the lines and swirls of the design.

“Do you have a family? I’ve wondered but you’ve never really mentioned anything besides your sister, Anna.”

Closing his eyes briefly he wondered what he could and should say. At this point his soul was bare to her, his deepest secrets lay open before her, all she had to do was look to see them. Yet he hoped she chose not to, she did not need his pain infused in her life. “I did at one time. I spent two years in an orphanage before I was found and brought to a facility for training. Now I work for that facility.”

“Wow. You’ve…they started training you as a kid?”

“It’s elite. It takes many years to be…fully trained and skilled. A man did not become a part of the group until he completely mastered all areas and he proved his capabilities. Now there are few things he is inadequate in.”

She turned her head to quirk an eyebrow at him. “You’re not just saying that to inflate your own ego, right?”

“Nein.” He chuckled, leaning up on his elbow to see her better. “I promised not to lie to you, yes?”

“Just checking.” She turned back to face the open door, seeing the morning light spilling into the apartment through the kitchen windows. “So…your job here…you said you were watching someone. Do you not need to watch them anymore?”

“There will not be a reason to.”

“Do you like your job, working for the facility?”

“A man is good at it.”

“That didn’t answer the question.”

He paused. “Why these questions, Schöne Mädchen?”

She shrugged, “just thinking.”

The morose tone of her voice over shadowed her casual response. She clearly was thinking of his upcoming absence in her life. His heart ached thinking about it himself. After he completed the mission, he was determined to try and stay until the end of the semester. Perhaps he could convince his Master that he needed to further watch Professor Tyrion Lannister after the death of his father or that his sudden departure without the completion of his TA duties would complicate the potential for him to use this alias in the future. They honestly were stretches for reasons to stay but hoped his Master would buy it for now. There was another mission already waiting for him but maybe it could be passed to another master.

Tipping her shoulder back, she followed his lead until she lay on her back beneath him, still propped up on his elbow facing her. He cupped her cheek, his thumb gently touching the small crosshatch scar on that cheek, a reminder, before meeting her gray eyes. “Mein Herzallerliebste…” He kissed her forehead, her nose and both of her cheeks ever so softly. “Hundert Herzen wäre zu wenig, all meine Liebe zu dir zu tragen.” Tenderly he touched his lips to hers, not for passion but as to solidify his words, to signify his promise. There would never be another like her. “Dein ist mein ganzes Herz.”

Sudden tears watered her eyes and she blinked furiously to push them back. Now was not the time. Her heart felt as if it were exploding and melting simultaneously at his words. Even though she did not understand them, she felt them…felt their meaning and emotion. His striking bronze eyes held hers, staring into her soul. His words stamped upon her very being. She opened her mouth to tease him about sweet talking her in German  but something else slipped out before her mind stopped reeling from his declaration.

“I love you.”

She froze, surprised by her words and partially nervous about his reaction. The words hung heavily in the air. They could not be taken back now, but once they were released, she realized she did not want to take them back. He was hers and she was his. She loved him and she wanted him to know it. Especially if their time together was drawing to an end. She refused to be some bloody romance story where their love was never spoken and they left wondering how the other person truly felt, blah blah blah.

The corners of his lips turned up. “Ich Liebe Dich, Schöne Mädchen.”

“Did you just say you love me too?”

His smile grew at her question. “Yes, lovely Arya.”

“Awww…I knew it.” Her own smile bloomed on her face. The moment felt surreal. If she closed her eyes, she wondered if when she opened them, it would all be a dream. Gods, she hoped not. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know. I will figure something out. Let us not dwell on that now.”

“Ok…what do you want to dwell on then?”

His eyes darken slightly as his eyes drifted slowly down her body beneath him, covered in his sheets. “A beautiful, naked woman lays in a man’s bed…there are a few things he can think of to dwell on that will be most…satisfying.”

She giggled, feeling her cheeks burn but also some wetness between her legs with his shameless, lustful look and voice dripping in sensuality. “If you say so. I would have no idea about that.”

He raised an eyebrow, gazing upon his siren. Her beauty and being an alluring magnet to him. “Well there is much I must teach you then, yes?” Swiftly he pulled the covers over his head and slipped down her body, a wide smile on his face as he listened to her laughter turn to moans and gasps.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo....what did y'all think?  
> Truthfully I was really nervous to add in the bit with Jaqen's "real" name. *Please no one hate me, I really like the name Jaqen H'ghar too* But it just felt like that last piece or level of himself to surrender to her.  
> Lemme know how you felt what happened.   
> Side note- anyone catch The Count of Monte Cristo quote? 
> 
> Sneak peek for next week's chapter:  
> ~"What is that?" He finally asked, ice dripping off his voice.  
> "Your death. You may either accept it and take it yourself or a man will force it down your throat."~


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, another chapter. Getting closer to the end. :)  
> I am so excited for y'all to read this chapter. I've been waiting months to write this and to share it!   
> Without further ado: enjoy!

 

Darkness covers many things. It covers the blood spilt, the pain endured, and the lies believed.  It harbors truths and deceit, covers the footsteps of the fallen and desires of the righteous. Darkness eats away at the hope of redemption. It is both a prison and sanctuary for the weak and strong. A place to hide in strength or a place to cower in defeat. Yet when light breaks through the enduring cover of darkness, it reveals the truth both blessed and cursed. Light leaves no shadows, no doubt, it illuminates all. Tonight though. Tonight was for the darkness. Tonight was for the shedding of blood. A cleansing through pain.  A debt paid for betrayal. Betrayal taints the soul of its bearer, it blackens a hole and slowly consumes until nothing is left. It is a plague that feasts on its bearer and can only be destroyed through death. Faceless Men do not tolerate betrayal. They will not suffer the iniquity of those tainted and cursed. Tonight, lies would be uncovered and truth shown through under the cover of night. Tonight would be for a bloody redemption. Tonight the red god would be gifted a black soul.  Valar Morghulis.

The German assassin walked down the unadorned, white halls of Elliot Hall, looking neither left nor right as he slipped his gloves on. Each footstep was set with purpose. Determination and confidence covered his shoulders like a cloak. The camera feeds had been set on a loop so the assassin’s presence was invisible. All others had left. There was no one to witness the vengeance of the Faceless Men. Months of watching in the shadows, of sneaking around and studying the dead man had finally come to this. Tonight the mission would be completed. He approached the office door of the dead man and opened it without hesitation. No ceremony, no preamble. Death had come.

Professor Tywin Lannister looked up from his desk. His intense eyes narrowed slightly. “Something I can do for you?” Shadows from the lamp on his desk highlighted his hooked nose, sharp cheekbones and darkened eyes that could pierce stone. His already blonde hair appeared almost white, cut short to his head. A powerful man who aged without losing this strength.

Without a word, the assassin closed the door behind him and locked it. There was no one in the building, no fear of being interrupted but the sound of the lock clicking had its intended effect.

“What is this, Jaqen?” Confusion, anger and a healthy dose of fear slipped into the professor’s otherwise cold voice.

The dealer of death crossed the room to sit across the desk from the dead man. So many times he had sat in this wooden chair, listening to the professor talk about the research project, critiquing and criticizing. No trance of the humble exchange student was seen in the assassin’s countenance. His bronze eyes studied the man with impunity, his lips in a firm line, back straight. So many months of waiting had led to this moment. Meeting the older man’s eyes, he reached into his jacket’s pocket, withdrawing a small glass vial. So innocent looking yet so far from the truth. He placed it in the middle of the desk over a stack of documents, within reach of the professor. Silence reverberated in the room, neither man moving. The professor’s eyes darted back and forth between the vial and his supposed research student. The assassin watched the tendrils of fear grow within the dead man’s mind. How his eyes widened and narrowed with each conflicting thought, forehead furrowed.

“What is that?” He finally asked, ice dripping off his voice.

“Your death. You may either accept it and take it yourself or a man will force it down your throat.”

“Why would I choose death?” He scoffed, leaning back to sit up straight. His hands slipped into his lap.   

 “You have betrayed those you agreed to help. We do not tolerate deception nor betrayal. You forfeited your life once you sold our secret for your own ambitious gains.”

The dead man hesitated, letting the words sink in before he leaned forward, chuckling humorlessly. “Ah, Faceless Men. It took much longer than I expected for someone to notice. You are here to kill me then, I assume.”

“Your death is certain. The question is by your hand or a man’s.”

“You are certain.” Abruptly, Tywin’s hand came up holding a pistol aimed at the assassin. A dark smile covered his mouth, satisfaction oozing from his being. “You must be foolish to think I would not be prepared for this.”

The dealer of death did not move nor change his countenance from a charged focus. His gaze never wavered from the dead man’s. He knew his own demise would come one day when the Many-Faced god willed it, but not today…and not by this arrogant traitor.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The professor’s façade of strength and confidence fell as he stared at the pistol, suddenly finding it empty of life-saving bullets. There was nothing to protect him now. The lion had become the sheep. Death swept in and it clung to the man’s clothes, ready to take possession. Fear illuminated the dead man’s eyes, understanding taking hold. Safety was an illusion. Only death was real.  

In a flash, the assassin appeared beside the dead man, gripping his hair and yanking his head back roughly. The new, previously unknown fear paralyzed the dead man. A man so used to control now reduced to being frozen by the knowledge of his impending doom. Swiftly, the assassin snatched the vial, unplugged it and drained it down the man’s throat before he started to fight back. The dead man tried defend himself against the assassin and to close his mouth from the liquid burning down his throat. It was too late. The damage was done. The dealer of death released the dead man and returned to his prior seat, casually sitting down. He set the vial back on the desk, empty of its contents now. The poison did not take long. Within seconds the professor began gasping for breath, hands clawing at his throat, eyes bulging. The assassin rubbed a hand over his own mouth and chin as he watched death take its course. His sister had explained to him that the poison was a combination she made specifically for this mission, it caused the throat to swell and make breathing difficult but what would kill him was the toxin seeping into his heart forcing a heart attack that would be lethal. The assassin stayed and witnessed the demise of the liability to the Order. After a short period of time, the professor stopped moving, head laying on his desk like he was merely sleeping except for the pained expression haunting his face. A remembrance that his last moments were of agony.  

Rising to his feet, the assassin checked for a pulse and breathing for confirmation. Finding none, he picked up the vial, tucked it into his pocket before walking out and closing the door behind him. The Red god had claimed his own. Revenge given, debt paid. The mission was complete. The scene behind him was innocent enough, the professor suddenly dying of a heart attack from the long hours at work. There would be no connection to him or the Order. The gift given was flawless. The assassin tugged off his gloves as his feet directed towards the nearby stairs. A sinister smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Valar Dohaeris.

 

* * *

 

“Arya, you must let me rise.”

She shook her head against his bare chest, tucked into his side, her arm slung over his lean yet firm stomach. The two lay in Jaqen’s bed under the blankets, morning light slowly warming up the room. He was entirely too comfortable for her to want to move. She had spent the night again and had no interest in doing anything besides breathing and cuddling…maybe eating at some point.

“You have class starting in an hour.”

She growled her displeasure at the reminder, keeping her eyes closed and tightening her grip on him.

He chuckled, brushing a hand over her loose hair covering her naked shoulder. Truly he wished they did not have to leave his bed and could continue their revelry of rest and love-making. Unfortunately they probably skipped and were late to too many things already since she had begun spending the nights with him. Having her in his bed was utter bliss. The warmth of her body next to his, her easy smile, the look in her eyes of devotion and a touch that sent him floating to the sky with love or into the depths with a burning passion. Her care, her affection, her comfort to him continued to astound him daily. She owned him, body and soul.

“Mein Liebling.” He kissed the top of her head as he lay on his back. “We must awaken.”

“I can skip class.” She mumbled.

He began to lift her arm off his waist to slip away. Abruptly she clambered on top of him, attempting to pin him down with her lithe body.

“No, you can’t get up.”

“Truly?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back a smirk. The notion that she could truly restrain him was comedic, but he held still nevertheless. Plus her naked body above his was never an unpleasant sight nor feeling.

Giving a quick wiggle of her body, she tightened her grip on his wrists. “You shall not pass.”

“If a lovely girl says so…” Without warning, he gripped her and rolled them before she could do more than squeak. Now she lay beneath him, hair a mess around her head, gray eyes staring back into his bronze in amusement. “…a man recalls training an apprentice for this kind of scenario. Has a most lovely Arya forgotten how to defend herself already?” Slowly he reached down and began planting feather-light kisses onto her neck and collarbone. The t-shirt of his she wore was just loose enough to access to her velvety skin.

“I don’t remember you teaching me anything in this exact scenario.”

“Ah, you must learn to adapt your skills or success will evade you.”

She rolled her eyes but could not help tipping her head back further on the pillow to grant him easier access to her skin. “Thanks Yoda for that advice. I’ll consider it.”

“Mmm…” After a quick nip of her earlobe, he sat up on his knees above her. “It is determined your punishment shall be you must find all your clothes yourself. I will not help.” Slippery as an eel, he leapt off the bed before Arya could grab him and keep him there. He smiled impishly at her exasperated face.

“That’s not fair!” She moaned, sitting up to glare at him. “You were the one who tossed my clothes around here.”

“Perhaps you’ll better remember your lessons from your sensei next time.” He laughed as he stepped out of the room right as a pillow hit the door where he had just been standing.

Arya dramatically flung herself back with a groan. He was right but dammit if she said that out loud. She did not want to get up. _Gods, I’ve gotten lazy._ Hoping to kill some more time, she grabbed her phone off the nightstand to check it. Social media was a great way to procrastinate. A few minutes later she received an unexpected text from Shireen.

**Hey, any chance you’re coming this way before class?**

She frowned as she typed up her response. **Do I need to?**

**Yeah, I need your help with something.**

**Yeah, sure. I’ll be on my way in 5.**

**Thanks, girl!**

Arya rolled out of bed, beginning the search for her clothes tossed haphazardly around the room. _I wonder what’s going on with Shireen?_ Her mind ran through the possibilities of why she would need her but none of them truly seemed to make sense. Tugging her leggings on, she mentally shrugged. She would find out soon enough.

“Is my shirt out there?” She called out, having scoured the room thoroughly. At least she had her panties, leggings and sports bra. She could always borrow another sweater of his. His red sweater she “borrowed” months ago still remained on the end of her bed. He never said anything so she took that as his silent approval for her to keep it.

“On the couch.” He replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Leaning against the counter, he held his mug with both of his hands as he watched her emerge from the bedroom. She was a sight to behold and he did not think he would ever tire of it. His heart swam in a sea of devotion within his chest, waves of fondness crashing against the shores of his conscience. His Schöne Mädchen. _Du bist mein Herz._

Her shirt found its way over her form as she got her own eye full of Jaqen. He stood in only a pair of boxers, the morning light coming from behind him making him look like some kind of fallen angel. It still astounded her that he wanted to be with her…her! In only a few months he had become such an central part of her world, he felt like home. Inside his arms was where she felt safe and blissful. He meant everything to her…and he loved her just as much back. It was mind-blowing.  “Hey, Shireen just asked if I could stop by before class so I’m going to head over.”  

He set his mug down on the counter before coming around and wrapping her in a hug. Their lips lingered in a gentle touch, neither pushing for more to stoke the passion. “Mein Herzallerliebste…” He pressed his forehead to hers. There were things they needed to discuss and now was not the time.  “Would you like to go for a drive tonight?”

She smiled. “That sounds great. I’ll meet you back here after my class.”

“Ich Liebe Dich.”

“I love you, Lukas.”

Tipping her chin up, he pressed his lips more fervently to hers. The sound of his true name coming off her tongue filled him with such wonder and drove him mad with passion. His hands easily became entwined in her hair as her own slipped behind his neck. Their tongues danced while their bodies molded together as if created for one another. Time both raced and ceased as the fervor of the moment overtook them. Eventually they both surfaced from their haze of intimacy, lips swollen and pupils blown wide.

“Stop distracting me.” She teased, stepping out of his enticing embrace and grabbing her coat. If she did not leave now, they would likely end up back in his bed or on the couch if the bed seemed to far, and she had promised Shireen she would stop by. _This had better be worth it._

He chuckled as he followed her to grab the door. “I deeply apologize. I am most sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

His impish grin widened. “No, I am not.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Uh huh. See you later.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips before stepping out into the hallway. The echo of the door closing behind surrounded her but she ignored it. Walking fast, she hoped she would be able to catch the bus without having to wait long in the cold. _What could Shireen need?_

 

* * *

 

“Hey, so my class starts in twenty…” Arya began as she opened the door to her apartment. Once her eyes saw a strange man sitting on one of the kitchen stools, her words died. As she opened the door, he turned from facing the kitchen to look at her. Their eyes met and she felt pinned in place. His eyes were dark and turbulent like a maelstrom. His blonde hair was cropped short. He had a slightly crooked nose seeming from it being broken and not healed correctly. What leapt out was the excessive tattoos covering his hands, arms and neck that she could see. Underneath his black coat and jeans, she bet he was even more covered in ink. He looked like a small tank with the amount of muscles he was sporting. One word came to mind when their eyes locked: run.

Shireen stepped out of her bedroom, putting an earring in her right ear. “Oh hey. This is Adam, he said he is a friend of yours and Jaqen’s…” Her smile dimmed as neither party excitedly greeted the other.

Arya slowly moved out of the doorway, closing the door and took a step further inside. “What do you want?”

His lips turned up ever so slightly as he continued to stare at her with a smug look. “I’m looking for Jaqen H’ghar.”

She tried to cover her initial shock at his British accent by crossing her arms over her small chest and continuing her brusque attitude. Whatever she had to say or do to get this stranger out of her apartment, she would do… _How does he know Jaqen?_ “He’ll be at his office for a while now…why?”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want him to spoil our fun now, would we?” He rose to an intimidating height, or it at least felt intimidating as he leered at her with a look like a predator playing with its food. “You’re coming with me, sweet girl.”

“Hells, no. You need to go now.” She moved to the side and pointed at the door. Every fiber of her being buzzed as if preparing to fight or flee. The knife Jon had bought her for Christmas was in her right boot. If she bent over quickly, she could grab it. Jaqen had been working with her on how to use it and handle it properly. This guy was in for a surprise if he thought to threaten her.

He chuckled darkly then moved surprisingly fast for his thick build and grabbed her wrist. He towered at least a foot over her and with his build, he could break her in half if he tried. It was not in her blood to go down without a fight though. He would regret messing with her. She was not helpless.

“Seven hells, get off me!” Arya yanked her hand, trying to slip out of his vice-like grip. Trying to fight back and hit his weaker spots only ended with him laughing at her as he easily defended himself. Everything Jaqen taught her was failing her…like he was expecting her specific moves and countermoves. _How did he know?_ He continued his harsh laughter, eyeing her like a puppy trying to pick a fight with a tiger.

“Let her go!” Shireen cried, moving forward to help her friend.

Within the span of a blink, the man pivoted slightly so he could see Shireen instead of having her behind him. He stood stoically still, a hardened face glaring at her and a pistol pointed at her chest. Shireen froze, eyes wide as saucers and chest heaving, still several feet away.

The turn of events made Arya feel like she had whiplash. It felt like all the air had been sucked from her lungs and left her gasping for breath. _How did it come to this? What have I done? Who is this man?_ Her eyes watched both the man still gripping her and her friend with a gun held on her. She silently begged the old gods to spare her and Shireen…to not let them be shot by this crazy man. Fear gripped her. Panic rose like a tidal wave in her stomach, nauseating her. They could not die like this.

His hand never wavering its hold on the pistol as the man turned his face to look back down at Arya. He leaned over to place his lips next to her ear, his hot breath stinging her skin. “You come with me now…or I’ll put a bullet in her chest and she’ll be left here to bleed out alone.” He leaned back to look at her face. “How do you want this to play out?”

She took two shallow breaths before nodding, not trusting her voice. Her mouth felt parched, her throat dry. Her mind whirled trying to figure out what was going on.

Without a word, he dug into her coat’s pockets searching. She tried to hold perfectly still, her eyes locked on Shireen’s. Tears slipped down Shireen’s cheeks. The pistol still pointed at her. Arya tried a weak smile to comfort her friend but it came out more of a grimace. This could not be their end…at least would not be Shireen’s end.

After a few moments and what felt like some groping, he pulled Arya’s phone out of her coat pocket. Casually he tossed it at Shireen’s feet. “Make sure Jaqen gets that.” Turning to face Arya completely, he removed the pistol from aiming at Shireen. Arya breathed a sigh of relief before suddenly feeling the end of the pistol slowly drag from her temple to jaw, like a psychotic caress. It felt deathly cold on her skin and she fought the innate desire to close her eyes. She would not appear weak. His eyes burrowed into hers, his other hand still firmly holding her wrist. “Be a good girl and don’t fight this. There will be some most…unpleasant consequences if you do.”

Her words lodged in her throat. She wanted to scream at him in both fury and terror… but all she could do was nod. Now was not the time. At least he was not pointing the gun at Shireen.

He smirked then pulled her out the door and down the hallway. Their footsteps resounded in the hallway, matching the pounding of her heartbeat. Her breaths came in short gasps. Suddenly Jaqen’s words from months ago flooded her mind. _Fear cuts deeper than swords._ She repeated the mantra in her mind, using it to focus. She would not allow fear to rule her. Whoever this guy was, he clearly was using her to get to Jaqen. For now she would pretend to play his game. _Jaqen, where are you? Please stay safe!_

 

* * *

 

It had been three days since the professor’s unexpected death that shook the university. He held his position for over two decades and was quite influential in the world of psychology research. Many colleagues were saying his death was a tragedy for both the university and psychology as a whole. A funeral had been arranged for the weekend in which many were expected to attend to honor his legacy and not necessarily his friendship. Everyone underneath his authority scrambled to solve the dilemma of what to do now with his classes, research and students. His accidental death had not been expected. Professor Tyrion took the week off to help with preparing for his father’s funeral arrangements and for his own mourning. Although most people that knew Tyrion understand his true grieving was minimal since their father-son relationship was so stained at best.  That left the teaching assistants to run the Research Methods class until Tyrion returned.

Jaqen sat in his squeaky, rolly chair at his office desk half-heartedly listening to his fellow TAs. Brad sat in his chair and Margaery reclined on the short, ugly couch next to Jaqen’s desk. The fourth TA, Jessica, was meeting with a student currently. Brad and Margaery were discussing if the upcoming exam, that happened to fall on the upcoming Tuesday, should be pushed back until Thursday or the following week. The fleeting glances Margaery subtly threw his way, nor how close her crossed foot was occasionally skimming his leg, went unnoticed by Jaqen, he just chose to ignore them. She meant nothing to him and he was sick of playing her game. The mission was complete. There would be no possible use of her anymore.

Half his mind kept tabs on the external conversation in front of him, the other half of his mind replayed his conversation with his Master three nights ago. He had reported the successful mission and tried to persuade that he finish the semester. His Master decided the assassin would stay until the university’s spring break then return. An excuse of a family emergency would save face for his alias and he would not return to complete the semester. That gave Jaqen two weeks to complete his scouting for any damning evidence left by the dead man and to say his good-byes to his lovely girl. He would tell her tonight on their drive of the timing of his departure. He dreaded it. The past two days his mind had wrestled and fought with conflicting thoughts of ways to further his stay here, to not have to leave her just yet. Deep down he knew it was futile. Their separation was inevitable, but oh how he loathed it. In a moment of despair, he wondered if there was a way he could keep her near him, to keep her secret. That thought was dangerous and he dashed it away quickly. If the truth of her every became known, his Master would silence her in a heartbeat and her body would never be found. With a soft sigh, he returned his full attention to his fellow TAs.

Not a minute later the office door slammed open, a few books toppling over in the nearby bookshelf from the impact. Two figures moved into the cramped office, righteous anger billowing off them in clouds.

“Where is she?” Jon Snow demanded, voice cold and controlled. He stood slightly in front of Gendry, whom looked ready to explode.

“Who are you? You can’t be here right now.” Margaery spoke up, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Her posture straightened as she stared at them.

“What have you done to Arya?” Jon did not even acknowledge Margaery, his eyes glaring at Jaqen with open hostility and repressed rage. His hands were clenched at his sides. His body trembled ever so slightly. Behind him, Gendry’s face was contorted in fury, vivid blue eyes blazing with the heat of a summer sun. His arms were crossed over his chest as if to keep himself from hitting something…or someone.

A weight dropped in Jaqen’s stomach. “Brad, Margaery, would you please excuse us?”

“What the…”

“Now would be best,” Jaqen interrupted Brad’s comment. If the two did not leave, he would throw them out himself, damn the consequences. _Schöne Mädchen…where are you?_ He met Jon’s glare, the molten steel color in his eyes so similar to his lovely girl’s. The two befuddled TAs left, squeezing past the two seething men blocking the door. The tension eased minimally as Gendry closed the door behind him and stood in front of it with crossed arms like a sentry.

“Where. Is. She?” Jon repeated callously, taking a step closer to Jaqen.

“Tell me what you know…”

“This is bullshit.” Gendry interrupted, slamming his fist on the door. He pointed his finger at Jaqen. “Your friend took her, don’t tell us you didn’t know!”

Tendrils of horror and despair seeped into Jaqen’s heart and mind. This could not be. Not this. His gaze bounced between the two, desperate for hope where none could be found. “What friend? Arya is the only friend I have here.”

That seemed to take them both back for a moment before Jon ran his hands through his hair and spoke without as much bite to his words. “I got a call an hour ago from Shireen hysterical. She said your friend came to their apartment, pointed a gun at her and forced Arya to go with him or he would shoot her.”

“Did she say what he looked like?”

“Not really, she said something about him being scary and having lots of tattoos.”

Jaqen dropped his face into his hands, thankful he was sitting for his legs would have been unable to hold him after his worst fear was confirmed. He sent a silent plea to the Many-Faced god pleading for her safety, for him to wake up from this nightmare. “Mein Lieling…Es tut mir leid. Verzeih mir.” He murmured to himself. It had only been two hours since he had kissed her good-bye at his door. Now…now she was gone. With each heartbeat, his heart fractured a little bit more. He should have kept her by his side. He should have never met her and opened her life up to this potential harm. He should have better protected her. It was all his fault. Her death was on his hands, even if he was not there to witness it.

“Oh shit. Arya’s phone just got a text from a random number.” Gendry held her phone up, eyes widening.

“What does it say?” Jon asked, turning to look at Gendry.

Gendry shook his head, clutching the phone tightly. “It’s an image…but its locked. I can’t get into her phone.”

Jaqen stood abruptly, reaching his hand out for her phone. His muscles quivered with tension and fury. If there was a text, she was still alive. He would find her. He would burn this city down to find her and make her safe. This was not an abduction. This was a high-stakes game.

Gendry hesitated a moment before relenting and handing it to Jon who passed it to Jaqen. Once in his hand, he quickly unlocked it and opened the text. He learned the password to her phone long ago. He hissed as the image pulled up before his eyes. His Schöne Mädchen…his Arya…it was a close up of her torso and face. Her hands were tied above her, out of view of the picture. Her lip was split down the middle, a couple droplets of blood marred her chin. Her hair was disheveled like she had been tossed around. Those beautiful gray eyes…eyes of cold steel…eyes of an impending storm… shone fiercely through the image. Fear hinted at the very edges but determination and courage overshadowed with the set of her jaw and the tight line of her lips.  

A second later a text appeared under the picture from the same unknown number. Jaqen whispered the words a loud, horrified by its implication, both to himself and Arya.

“What does it say?” Jon asked, having come to Jaqen’s side and read over his shoulder. The words in a tongue he would not know. An old language used only by a few in the world.

The words dropped like a bomb as he translated it out loud, the deafening silence flooding the office. “Come find her, brother.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do y'all think? Was anyone surprised? 
> 
> On an unfortunate note- The next chapter might not be up for two weeks. This next week has the potential for being busy so I may not have as much time to write as i would like. I'll try my darnest to get the next chapter out soon. Sorry to leave you on a cliff hanger. I swear it was not done on purpose.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Here's the next chapter a few hours earlier than normal. ;)   
> Thanks for the feedback on the prior chapter, it seems like a lot of people were surprised by the English brother's actions. Which as a writer is exciting I can surprise you but I hope y'all don't hate me. I love the Handsome Man. I'll explain more in the notes at the end of the chapter.   
> Anyway, hope you enjoy the angst!

 

 

Arya lifted her chin off her chest as she heard the motel’s door open. The stranger, who had taken her, slipped inside quickly, locking the door behind him. He tossed his navy blue coat onto the nearby chair, standing now in the entrance in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. Tapping his thigh with his right hand thrice, he examined the room and, consequentially, her also. Her eyes remained focused on the wall in front of her. If she looked over at him, her façade of stoicism might break. Truthfully, she wanted to rush over and attack him. Do whatever she had to so she could get away and warn Jaqen. Gods, she was supposed to meet him this evening for a drive. What would he do when she did not show up? Would he know something was wrong? Would Shireen contact him? How was Shireen handling everything? Would she call Jon? Oh gods, Jon… what must Jon be thinking of her abduction? She had to brush the concerns away. Now she needed to focus on her immediate threat. Unfortunately, the immediate threat was her abductor who was easily over six foot, muscular, strong and could clearly destroy her without breaking a sweat…and her hands were tied to a metal bedframe. _Seven hells and a flaming pile of shit!_

After taking her from her apartment, the tattooed man forced her into the back seat of his Chevy Cruze before tying her wrists together. They drove for about an hour north before he pulled over to a motel. She needed to comply, even if every ounce of her being fought the urge to. She needed to give in and pretend to be docile for her and Jaqen’s sake. Her plan was to remain silent and pay attention. There had to be something she could do to get away from him. Maybe she could learn why he wanted Jaqen and she could use that. Yet when he grabbed her from the back seat and started pulling her towards the motel door, her brain revolted against her reasoning. A panicked instinct overshadowed her reasoning and she began fighting against him- thrashing, kicking, anything to loosen his grip and get away. Even if it was futile. The true chances of her escaping him was about the same as the sun deciding to rise in the west and set in the east…which was none. Before anyone around the motel could even notice her struggle, he slapped a hand across her mouth and pinned her against his body. Her back slammed against his abdomen with his other arm across her torso with a vice-like grip.

“That’s not how the game is played, sweet girl. Walk nicely or I will drag you. Your choice.” He whispered into her ear, voice haughty.

What else could she do? The panic roiling in her gut threatened her to be sick right there on the pavement but she forced it down. _Fear cuts deeper than swords._ She had to be strong. She would not give into the fear and panic clawing at her with a vengeance. With his hand still over her mouth, she gave a brief nod to show her submission. A second passed then his grip on her vanished. Quickly he led her to one of the motel doors and unlocked it before practically thrusting her inside. After locking the door behind them, he stood in front of her, staring into her face for a long moment as if examining her mind. Unsure why, she stared back. _Who is this guy? What does he really want?_ He was bloody intimidating and the way his eyes raked over her as if peeling her skin back, she forced back a shudder. Without warning, he backhanded her across the face. The force and impact sent her reeling against the nearby wall. Half crumpled against the wall, her cheek burned from the impact and her lip stung. She could only assume it split. Licking it quickly, she recognized the coppery taste of blood, confirming her suspicions. Suddenly he stood over her, roughly grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his.

“Try and pull a fucking stunt like that again and there will be some… unpleasant consequences. I planned on making this easy for you but now… it seems you want to keep our little game interesting so we’ll do it your way.” He leered at her, fingers painfully gripping her chin. With this pressure, bruises were a definite possibility. After that he tied her to one of the metal bed posts at the end, hands above her head as she sat on the floor. Once she was secure, he pulled out his phone and held it in front of her. “Smile, sweet girl.” She glared. _What kind of stupid is he?_ After, what she assumed was him taking a picture, he forced a cloth gag in her mouth, turned the TV on and left the motel room.

That was over two hours ago…and now he was back. She did not turn her gaze away from the wall before her. The sounds of the weather channel served as white noise which she zoned out long ago. _Seriously, he couldn’t have changed the channel to something decent?_ The motel room’s air smelled stale with lingering hints of cigarettes and greasy food. The wallpaper was terrible, an ugly yellow that looked straight from the ‘70s with equally ugly green carpet. It was stupid but she refused to acknowledge him, it gave her the impression of control. _Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords._  Somehow she had been able to ignore the anxiety and panic waiting in the shadows of her mind. Now was not the time to break down. She had to get away. She had to warn Jaqen. The tattooed man moved towards her and sat on the bed next to her, making the bed sink dramatically. Her eyes never left the wall before her. She would only play so much of his game. Suddenly her gag loosened and dropped into her lap but before she could rebel or rejoice, a cheap, plastic water bottle was thrust past her lips and water flooded her mouth. She choked and sputtered on the incoming water but managed to drink some and not just inhale it. Just as abruptly as it appeared, the bottle was yanked away from her mouth. Water dripped down her chin onto her long sleeve shirt. She had not realized how dry her mouth and throat had become with the gag in. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths to settle her racing heartbeat and savor the taste of the water. She could feel his dark eyes on her, assessing, examining, leering, but she ignored it. They sat silently next to one another like two marble statues for some time. The silence grated on her nerves but she refused to give in.

“So, you are his little pet, huh?”

She refused to acknowledge him.

He chuckled before speaking again. “Where did you get this?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him swinging her necklace off one finger…Jaqen’s coin…her necklace… _How in seven hells did he get it?_ She did not remember him taking it off her. _Shit, he told me to keep it safe and hidden._  Pressing her lips together firmly, she winced as her split bottom lip cried out at the sudden pressure.

“Did he give it to you?”

She replied quickly…probably too quickly. “I took it. He doesn’t know.” Immediately she regretted speaking out.

“You stole it?” He skeptically asked, sounding both amused and annoyed by her lie.

No reply passed over her tongue.

Getting up, he turned the TV off then leaned against the squat dresser, directly across from her. Those dark eyes of his boring into her skin, making her want to fidget to get away from his gaze. “You are lying… he gave it to you.”

Shifting her eyes to not make eye contact, she continued to stare at the wall. _I am a Stark. I am a wolf. Fear cuts deeper than swords. I am not helpless._

He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the necklace still dangling from his hand. A smug look appeared, eyes gleaming mischievously. “You’re important to him…more than just a cover. He would not give his coin away without reason.” He paused as if debating how to proceed. Unexpectedly, he pulled the pistol out from his lower back and laid it on the dresser next to him before returning to cross his arms. “Did he tell you what this coin means?”

Her jaw tensed but she made no other move. However much she wanted him to stop taunting her, at least it was a distraction from her physical numbness. Her arms were dead weight now, having been held up for hours. There was only so much shifting she had been able to do to try and get comfortable. Her legs and backside ached, along with her back from being pressed against the bed frame. The only small source of relief she found was that her boot knife, Needle, was still hidden in her right boot. Even if it did not do her any good right now. It was a small comfort to know she still possessed it.

“No? Let me tell you.” He flipped the necklace around his finger, staring at it like if uncareful it might burn him. His tone was one of a sickening delight as he educated her on the meaning of Jaqen’s coin. “One only receives an iron coin if they become a master of the Faceless Men…which, sweet girl, is a group of elite assassins…”

_Assassins?…Jaqen?... what?..._

“…we each earned ours upon completion of our final training mission and when we were given the ability to change our faces. Quite a unique ability.”

_We… assassins… we… oh shit…OH SHIT!_

“You’re… you work with Jaqen?” Arya stumbled out, unable to suppress her questions any longer. _Assassin?_ In the hours she spent hypothetically guessing what Jaqen’s true work was, assassin had never truly come to mind. The truth would have knocked her off her feet if she had been standing. _Assassin?_ That tasted…wrong in her mouth. He could not be. He was kind and funny and sweet… and he was paid to kill people.

He smirked, watching the realization sink into her mind. “Yes, I am his brother.”

_Brother…not coworker? Not friend?_ Her mind whirled with the new information. Oddly enough, her mind latched onto the memory of Jaqen’s sister. Did that mean she worked with them too? Was she an assassin? Why were they called brothers and sister? _Seven hells! I insulted an assassin when I called her a harlot!_ She had been somewhat nice after the awkward initial encounter. Was it possible to be nice assassins? Yet the man in front of her currently was sending a completely different vibe then Jaqen and the woman. Her curiosity won out as she voiced her question. “Do you share the dark-haired sister then? The really pretty one?”

The next instant his hand was around her jaw, clasping it forcefully. Her tongue pressed painfully to the back of her teeth. A bead of blood from her split lip dripped down onto her chin. If he continued the pressure, she worried he would break her jaw. This mention of a sister, though, his eyes lost their confidence fractionally and his eyes scourged into hers seeking answers. She momentarily wondered if it had been unwise to bring her up.

“How do you know of her?” If he did not sound so angry, it would almost sound like he was pleading.

An understanding sunk in. This was a chip she could use against him. His game was not foolproof. A deviant smile twisted her lips. “I met her.”

“When?” He demanded, the one word fierce as a strike, his face inches from hers.

“Why should I tell you?” A piece of herself was impressed at her confidence in standing up to him, while the more rational part of her screamed to shut up! He had a gun. He had her tied to a bed. He could easily hurt or kill her. Why was she talking back to him? Keep quiet. Keep your head down and look for weaknesses. It felt a bit too late to stick with that strategy now.

His eyes stared into her mind, picking it apart seeking his answers. The intensity of his gaze was disconcerting and she fought the urge to avert her eyes and throw up. As if sensing a weakness,  he slowly released her and returned to his prior spot across from her. Her necklace dangled from his hand, he stared at it as if it held his answers. He ran a finger along one side, caressing the words.

“You have spirit, I can see why he might like you. You’re pretty enough. It’s a shame, sweet girl, he can’t keep you.” He tapped his bottom lip with his thumb for a minute, staring just above her head before looking back down at her. “Your last name is Stark. Your father was Ned Stark.”

She could not help it. Her eyes jerked to his. Her jaw dropped slightly. Her father’s name was the last thing she expected to hear out of this tattooed stranger… assassin… Jaqen’s brother. How did he know this? A queasy feeling erupted in her gut. This change of topic… this apparent knowledge…what kind of game was he playing?

His lips turned up into a malicious smile at her reaction. He had her and he knew it. What playing card she thought she had about his sister was trumped by the mention of her father. “Did Jaqen tell you he looked into who killed him over your break? No? He probably thought he could spare you the pain of the truth…” His smile widened. “…Do you want to know?”

She was unsure when she had begun to quiver. The truth. The truth of her father’s death. Was she ready for it? Her heart cried out, years of not knowing, the unbelief from the police reports. A torrent of emotions rained upon her with the impending truth. Her soul soaked in the hope of finally knowing who caused her family such pain like parched ground absorbing the bit of dew on its surface. It would not erase the pain but it could ease the discomfort. A tension ran through her body, every muscle, every bone on alert to hear the tattooed man’s words. Her beloved father. She needed it. The truth. Finally. _Why didn’t Jaqen tell me?_ There had to be a reason but a piece of her burned with the knowledge he knew and kept the information from her.

He must have seen the desire in her eyes although her lips refused to answer him. Smugly he knelt in front of her. His hand slipped through her loose hair and caressed her cheek as he spoke. Frozen with the impending information, she was unable to resist his unwanted contact. His touch was strangely gentle, as if trying to lessen the pain he was going to cause her. It made no sense. In the moment though, his physical contact came in second place of her focus. Her mind zoned in on his words, seeking the truth he was going to share. “Your father was in the way of an influential person. His death was paid for… just a simple obstacle in the path of ambition. His death cost much, the ending of his life did not come cheaply. Plus it was hard to make sure it looked like a tragic accident. Faceless Men do not fail though. The mission was complete and the gift given.”

Gray eyes bored into his, refusing to let the tears fall. _WHO?_ Her mind screamed. _Who? Who hated him so much? Who could be so cruel?_ She would not show weakness before her abductor though. No matter what he said, she would remain strong. Only her shallow breathing and rapid heartbeat betrayed the effects of his words on her. Hearing someone paid for her father’s death…her heart felt like it was being ripped out all over again.

“Would you like to know who pulled the trigger?” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

She shuddered as his warm breath hit her ear and neck but she bit her lip to keep quiet.

Leaning back slightly, he observed her. Something akin to sadness flittered across his face, his prior smug expression replaced with something that confused Arya.  He did not need to lay a hand on her to inflict pain. Words spoken carried more pain and destruction than any whip or belt could. There are only so many walls and shields that can be built up around one’s heart and mind. Words are like water, they will seek the cracks and crevices to slip into. A little at a time they break down the foundation and walls until it all crumbles and the only thing left standing are the memories of safety. Even if it was only an illusion.

He stared into her face, drawing a finger down her cheek and across her full quivering lips. “I won’t spoil everything. He can tell you who paid for your father’s death but who pulled the trigger…” He leaned forward again to whisper in her other ear. “I did. You have his eyes, that begged for life. I shot your father and listened to him beg for his life.”

After the words left his mouth, he slid back to sit against the dresser watching the mayhem ensue. As his confession sunk in, Arya threw off the stoic façade and allowed the wolf in her to rage. She screamed at him as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her cries and curses threatened to choke her with their intensity. Her father. He was a good man. Shot because of someone’s ambition. Her wrists burned and scraped against her constraints as she fought against them with renewed zeal. Her back and head slammed against the metal bed frame but the physical pain went unnoticed. The pain of words sunk deep into her heart. The truth scorched her soul. His death was no accident. Her family’s pain was intentional. And the one who pulled the trigger held her captive. Her eyes reassessed the stranger before her, taking in every little detail. He tore her family apart. He caused her endless nights of tears and despair for lack of her father’s embrace. He ripped out her heart and shot it along with the bullet he put in her father. He murdered Ned Stark.

“I am going to kill you.” She finally spat out at the man before her. Her voice could have frozen whiskey with how cold it sounded.

He stood up, eyes watching her with interest. “You may have the opportunity yet… There are many things I need atonement for.” Then he turned and walked out of the motel room, leaving her alone to dwell in her truthful misery and pain. Her screams and cries of anguish filled the stale air as the afternoon light from the window slipped in.

 

* * *

 

 

Jaqen sat on the barstool in his apartment, laptop open in front of him. A forced stillness enveloped his muscles. The only movement proving him among the living was his eyes frantically searching the screen for information and his hand occasionally moving the cursor. It had been three hours since Arya’s abduction. Three hours. Each hour felt like an eternity.   _Wo bist du, Geliebter?_ Once his initial shock wore off after receiving the text from his English brother, his mind slipped into Facelessness- processing information and making plans. It was the only thing keeping him sane. His emotions, his concern, his pain was shoved into the furthest back corner of his mind. A cold, calculating mind searched for his brother and his Schöne Mädchen. _Why, brother? Why take her?_ The questions only hindered his progress so he ignored them. He had to find them. He must find her.  

“We should call the police.” Gendry muttered, a sentiment he had repeated quietly several times over the past few hours. He paced in Jaqen’s living room, to wound-up to sit and watch patiently.

Jaqen did not even glance behind him, his sole focus on the laptop before him. After receiving the text from his brother, Jon and Gendry took him to see Shireen. She was still at her apartment with her boyfriend to comfort her. He felt awful to have to interrogate the naïve, trusting girl but he needed to know exactly what happened. There was a reason his brother chose to force Jaqen’s hand. _Warum, Bruder?_ Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she spoke, most of it out of fear for her friend. At the end, Jaqen took her hands in his own and promised to bring Arya back. It was obvious she needed the reassurance and the confirmation this was not her fault. Shireen threw her arms around him quickly, hopeful relief obvious. Gendry mentioned calling the police but Jaqen quickly shut down that notion. Taking the tone of authority unused to challenge, he instructed them to let him handle the situation. There was confusion and uncertainty about that order but Jaqen could not have police interfering. He tried to convey how it would only antagonize his brother and possibly put Arya in further danger. No one argued that. Their only hope was to trust him. He would make sure that trust was deserved. _Mein Liebling… Ich werde Sie finden._

Jon and Gendry followed Jaqen out the apartment door like loyal guard dogs. He suspected if he did not allow them to assist in recovering Arya, they would venture out on their own. Not that he blamed them. If someone tried to keep him from searching for Arya, he would tear that person apart. He directed them to his apartment where they set up their laptops and began their search. Hacking into Arya’s apartment camera feeds, they got the license plate of the Chevy Cruze and he had Jon tracing its path. Gendry could barely sit still, occasionally looking over Jon’s shoulder and trying to help keep an eye out for the Cruze but paced frequently. Jaqen searched the alias behind the license plate given to see what connections could be made of his English brother. _How long has he been here? How long has he been planning this? What resources does he have? Was he working for someone? Why, brother? Why this?_ He ran his hand over his mouth and chin. _Mein Liebling… I will find you._ He had too. There was no way he would be able to live if something happened to her. This was his fault. He had to find her. He had to fix this. His mind was solely focused, determined and precise to any little snippet of information that could alert him to his brother’s intents and where they were. His heart was in shambles. It roared out its pain, threatening to deafen him. It was as if half of his heart had been ripped out his chest. He tried his best to silence the shrieks, to use only his mind, to shut down his heart and emotions, to lessen the pain… but it only dulled enough not to overtake him.   _Ich werde Sie finden._

A quick glance at his phone next to him prompted the thought to call his sister and seek her aid. Surely she would want to know what their brother was doing, what game he was now playing. Perhaps she had some insight that he was unaware of. The thought had crossed his mind several times as the hours passed but he rejected it. There was no guarantee his Master would not learn of Arya if he sought for his sister. Hardly anything stayed hidden from the Principle Master inside the walls of the House of Black and White. What would happen then? The answer was horrifically simple- death. It would be safer if his Master never learned of Arya. She must remain a secret. Once she was free, he would consider what to do with his brother. Take him back to the Order as a traitor? Let him go? Convince him to come back as a brother? _Warum, Bruder? Warum dies?_ It made no sense.

Jon spoke up, the first time in almost two hours. “Gen, cover for me. I need to step away for a second.”

Jaqen heard Jon get up and walk over to the kitchen as Gendry huffed, sitting on the couch and grabbing Jon’s laptop. He was mildly surprised when Jon came around the connected island to stand facing Jaqen, leaning against the counter. His dark hair was mussed, like he ran his hands through it too many times, shadows were beginning to form under his eyes. His steel eyes dimmed with worry. With his arms stick straight against the counter, Jon forced Jaqen to meet his gaze.  

“You’re not really a teaching assistant, are you?” It was not said accusatory, more as a simple confirmation.

The assassin hesitated a moment then shook his head. With the programs he had the two using to locate the Chevy Cruze…there was no point in outright lying.

“Does Arya know…whatever you really are?”

“To a certain extent that keeps her safe.”

Jon sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Figures she’d be attracted to someone dangerous.” Looking to the side, he reached over and grabbed the picture frame with Arya and Nymeria in it, given to Jaqen so many months ago by his lovely girl. The tension around Jon’s eyes loosened slightly as he looked down at his cousin, the one he claimed as his little sister. “She has always been wild… She cares for you, far more deeply for someone she has known less than a year. She acts friendly enough to most but it takes a long time before she lets someone past her guard to see the real her.” He paused as if mulling over his words, trying to siphon out his true questions.  “What happened? She trusts you implicitly. Why?”

“Has she not told you?”

Jon’s eyes narrowed at the slight. “I want to hear your side. I want to know why my little sister was taken by one of your friends. I want to know why having you in her life has put her in danger. You owe us that much.”

Jaqen tentatively closed his laptop. Every ounce of him screamed for this conversation to end. They must find Arya. This was a waste of time. It was his fault Arya was taken.  If he left her alone, she would not be a hostage in a dangerous game. _Schöne Mädchen… Es tut mir Leid._ He was right though. Her brother deserved some form of explanation. He looked straight ahead, not meeting Jon’s probing gaze as he spoke.

“I saved her from Ramsay. After the…incident, she desired to learn to protect herself.  I taught her basic self-defense. We began training just after, soon a friendship grew and our time became…more. Never has someone offered a friendship so freely nor drawn me under their spell so intensely. Before I knew it, she had become important to me. I needed her safe and happy for my own sanity…which ensued our downfall. I am unsure why he took her but I will find her. No harm will come to her. He wants me. Believe me when I say, I would willingly die to keep her safe. She deserves life.”

“You love her.”

Jaqen looked back to Jon, allowing his mask to slip away for a moment. The true depth of agony he beheld when thinking of her gone, the mountainous heights of affection he felt for her…all reflected in his eyes. There was no fullness of life without her in it. “She is my beating heart.”

He nodded, seeming both pleased and saddened by the candor revelation. “She loves you… even if it’s safer to stay away from you.”

“I always told her she has more courage than sense.”

Jon chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds about right. What else can we do to find her?”

“Ah, I think I found her.” Gendry softly commented. Jon and Jaqen were looking over his shoulder within an instant. The laptop showed a live satellite picture of the car parked at a motel.

“This doesn’t feel right…like its too easy…” Jon ran his hands though his hair. “Wouldn’t he have changed the plates…something to throw us off?”

Jaqen stared at the image, gleaning all he could. The motel looked old, cheap and vacant. The Cruze was one of three visible cars in the parking lot. This was not about keeping Arya away from him. This was to draw him out. A meeting place with a hostage to enforce civility into the conversation. Whatever thoughts of convincing his brother to return to the Order, even to let him go, fled when his brain interpreted the surroundings. This was the type of place death happened and everyone looked the other way. His stomach somersaulted and twisted within him. When he arrived there, death would follow. He just hoped he could get Arya out before death sunk its teeth into her and refused to let go. He had to get her out. Failure was not an option. _Schöne Mädchen…Ich komme._

“He wants to be found.” Jaqen flatly stated, turning around to grab his keys off the counter. Walking into his bedroom, he retrieved his handgun and knife from the closet. As if suddenly drawn on their own accord, his eyes focused on his bed. The black sheets were still rumpled and disheveled, the comforter tossed back as if someone just rolled out from under it. For a long moment he stood frozen staring at the bed. Had it only been this morning they laid together laughing and blissful? The memory of her warm body pressed against him, her teasing kisses and touches and their declarations of love… _Warum, Bruder?_ Shaking away the memories, he returned to the living room to grab his leather jacket. His mask of Facelessness struggling to plaster itself to his face.

“What’s the plan?” Gendry demanded, standing up, arms crossed. “Are we going together or separate cars? The motel is about an hour away so…”

“I go alone.” Jaqen interrupted, pulling his jacket on.

“WHAT? HELL NO! You can’t possibly…”

Jaqen advanced until he stood in front of Gendry, eyes blazing, their noses almost touching. What courtesy Jaqen had been able to maintain while searching for Arya vanished in a puff of smoke. This jealous boy would dare to tell him what to do. Arya was his siren, his beloved, the one his heart yearned for. He would do whatever needed to be done to find her and keep her safe. Anger swelled within him. The red hot taste coated his mouth and tongue. “You will only slow me down. He wants me. He is using her to get to me. He will kill you without hesitation. I. GO. ALONE.”

“Swear by the old gods and the new, you’ll bring her back alive.” Jon interrupted, hands tightly clasping the back of the couch as if needing the touch to ground himself. “Or we will follow you and to hell with the consequences.”

Jaqen turned his head to look at Jon. “I swear by your old and new gods and by Him of Many Faces… I will bring her back.”

Jon gave a brief nod. “What can we do?”

“Wait for us at your place. I will bring her to you after.” With that, Jaqen swept out of his apartment. As he moved, he allowed his emotions, his pain, his frustration to slip out of the dark recesses of his mind. His English brother would answer for this. Any harm done to her, he would pay back tenfold. He would make her safe. Each heartbeat echoed her name within the confines of his chest. _Meine Herzallerliebste._ Blood would be spilled. Death would find a new soul. He just hoped to save Arya before death claimed her to its darkness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dodges the torches and pitchforks coming my way*  
> I'm sorry!  
> Alright friends, I know many are probably confused with what's going on with the English brother/Handsome Man. I hope to clarify it more in the next chapter with the confrontation between him and Jaqen. For now, my thoughts in the moment are that this past mission he went on made him start questioning his loyalties to the Order and his wants. Also, if you have noticed, I love playing the juxtaposition of characters in similar positions and how they handle it so differently. Gendry was rejected by Arya and is trying to still be a friend, even if his jealousy filters his viewpoint. In contrast, the English brother was rejected by his Spanish sister (Handsome Man/Waif) and is taking it in the opposite direction of letting his anger cloud his judgement. Plus, he is an assassin who probably has not been taught how to handle his emotions in the most healthy of ways....
> 
> Anyway, I hope this helps clarify a few things and y'all hate me a little less. 
> 
> The next chapter will be posted next week! At the moment it looks like there will be two chapters and probably an epilogue left. I cannot believe this story is almost over.   
> Let me know what y'all think of the chapter and what will happen next! :D


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? A chapter a day early?! Yes, dear friends, yes it is.   
> Actually I was struggling trying to decide to give you guys one longer chapter or breaking it up into two smaller ones. And....I decided to break it up. So you will actually get another short(er) chapter tomorrow! Huzzah!   
> Enjoy!

 

“He is here.”

Arya popped her head up and looked towards the large window next to the motel room’s door. The tattooed man stood in front of the large, closed window, pulling back the curtains just enough to look out into the parking lot. After his statement, he dropped the curtain, unlocked the door and moved to her side. The bed creaked and drooped as he sat down next to her. He murmured something to himself in a foreign language but Arya hardly paid attention. _Jaqen is here? He came!_ Joy and dread struggled within her for dominance. He would save her, there was no doubt. At what cost though? She did not want to see him hurt or killed for her sake. Her chest ached with the warring emotions. She wanted to see him so badly, to have his arms around her and kiss him but she also wanted him to run, to be safe and happy. She did not want him to die. _Jaqen, please be safe._  

The coppery tang of blood jerked her back to her current predicament. Out of nervousness, she had bitten her lip enough to cause it to start bleeding again. She tried to keep her breathing slow and steady. Thankfully, the gag had not been forced back into her mouth but now her voice was hoarse and throat painful from her screams and cries the hour prior.

“You ready, sweet girl?” Her abductor patted the top of her head like she was a child. “Now, you’re going to keep quiet and nothing will happen to you.”

The desire to scream and thrash against him, maybe even bite him grew, but she suppressed it. Fatigue had seeped into her muscles and mind. The adrenaline had run its course and now left her feeling weary. She kept her eyes locked on the door, not acknowledging his statement. She would do whatever she must to keep Jaqen safe.

 About ten minutes later, the motel door opened. With the fading afternoon light behind him, Jaqen stepped into the room. His eyes zeroed in on the two figures in the room. Without looking away, he closed the door behind him. Arya’s heart leapt at seeing Jaqen. He stood straight as a rod, hands in fists at his sides, shoulders tense. His hair looked slightly ruffled as if windblown. His white forelock was tucked behind his ear. His mouth was pinched and his cheekbones striking in the light. Those bronze eyes though…never before had she seen such depths of fury, sorrow, turmoil and pain in them. There was nothing more she wanted than to throw herself at him and comfort him, tell him everything would be alright…but the lie stuck in her throat and her arms remained tied to the bed post.

“Hello, brother.”

Jaqen allowed his eyes to flicker over Arya briefly. Seeing her in such a state, enraged and provoked him to rush to her side. But he could not. Not yet. However much he wanted to beat his brother to a bloody pulp for laying even one finger against her and then wrapping her in his arms and never letting go…he had to wait. He had to play the game. There was a reason his brother brought Arya here. For her safety, he forced his wrath into the back of his mind before staring at his brother. The one he had spent almost two decades with through days of training, missions, failures, victories and solemnness. The questions that had haunted him for hours sought their answers. “Why, brother? Why this?”

His English brother gave a brief bark of laughter that sounded forced. “Simple, I wanted to speak to you and wanted reassurance you would come.”

“She is no one. She means nothing to a man.” The words burned his tongue as he uttered them, but he hoped to chip away at his brother’s confidence. _Forgive me, lovely girl._

“Oh…I don’t quite believe that.” The English assassin pulled something out of his pocket and let it dangle from his hand.

What hope Jaqen had for convincing his brother of his indifference vanished. In his hand hung Jaqen’s iron coin at the end of a necklace. A seal of his commitment and loyalty. There was not supposed to be anything more important for a Faceless Man than his commitment to the Order and the Many Faced god. The iron coin was a representation of dedication proven and a certainty that its owner had no other persons or items to steal away one’s piety from the House of Black and White. Yet he had given it to Arya. She wore a sign of his devotion to her…around her neck. If the situation was not so dire, he would have laughed at the irony. Now he desperately wished she had hidden it somewhere in her room like he intended her to do when he gave it to her.

“Let her go, brother. I am here.”

The tattooed assassin tilted his head to the side. “Tell me. You truly care for her?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, but it’s more…” His smirk widened as he leaned forward slightly. “You don’t just care for her…you love her.”

Jaqen turned his focus to his lovely girl. Her messy hair, the blood dripping down from her lip and the hunched posture showing how long she had been forced to sit with her hands above her. _Mein Liebling…I won’t leave you._ She was the one to show him a life outside of the House of Black and White, of laughter and love, of withdrawing your own heart and handing it over to another, of realizing without the other than your life has less meaning. His answer came without hesitation as bronze eyes held gray eyes. “Yes.”

The following silence was thick enough you could stick a knife in the air and it would probably stick there. Arya held Jaqen’s eyes, infused with open candor and unmasked adoration. She tried to reciprocate the feeling, to show she trusted him and she had not been broken.

“You are no longer Faceless…the Principle Master won’t let you keep her. He will force you to kill her.” The English assassin’s tone lost its smugness and turned almost saddened for his brother’s predicament.

“No.” Jaqen’s gaze turned white hot with fury as he glared at his brother. “I will not allow anything to happen to her.”

“That choice may not be yours…does our sister know?”

“Yes.”

The assassin nodded, running a hand over his short blonde hair. Without a word, he reached over and released the rope tying Arya to the bedpost. Her wrists remained tied together but her arms collapsed once released.

She winced at the sudden release and renewal of blood flow in her numb arms. A quiet hiss slipped out as she bit her lip again to try and keep quiet, forgetting her split lip. Before she could think about moving, the tattooed man placed a hand on her shoulder, still sitting above her. The message was clear. Stay put. Keeping her eyes on Jaqen, ignoring her abductor next to her, she tried to filter out the unpleasant tingling flooding her arms and hands.

“Come with me, brother. Let’s leave this place…and make our own way.”

Jaqen paused. This offer was something he wondered if his brother would give him, like he offered their sister. It was odd that the English assassin did not want to leave the Order alone. It would be simpler for him to hide from the Order alone. _Why is he asking for companionship?_ He gave a brief sigh as he responded, knowing the reaction would be unpleasant. “You know we cannot. We owe the Order our lives.”

“WE OWE THEM NOTHING!” The assassin yelled, his grip on Arya’s shoulder painful now. “They have taken everything from us! The truth is we are puppets for the Principle Master, we do his bidding silently. True Facelessness…it’s only an illusion.”

“Politics may be the face of those who run the world but it is us, in the shadows, who choose who stands in the spotlight. We do the will of the Many-Faced god.”

A harsh bark of laughter sounded as the tattooed man scoffed. “I see your lips move but it is the Principle Master’s words coming out. He is not what you believe him to be. I have seen… This last mission…”

“What happened to you, brother?”

“This last mission… The things we had to do…” He trailed off as he shook his head, like the act could clear away the haunted memories. “I have seen the truth of the Order. Who they are. What they are. They are not Faceless. They are made of greed and ambition, just like all of humanity. Why waste our lives fulfilling their own goals and desires? What reward is there for us?” He leaned forward again, eyes intent. “Come with me. We were brothers in everything but blood and we can be once again. I’ll even let you keep your pet. Love, death, pleasure, pain…we can be our own masters. Come with me.”

“The Order will hunt us the rest of our days.”

“Then we end them! Who are they to dictate our lives?”

“Not like this…they took us in. We gave our lives and servitude freely.”

“AND WHAT HAVE THEY GIVEN US? WE WERE CHILDREN! They promised us freedom but all we have been given is chains binding us to them. Our lives, our choices, our freedom is no longer something we own. Blood and pain are all we have been given!”

“Brother…”

The tattooed assassin cut him off, his pleading transforming rapidly to sneering. “That is right though. You are the Principle Master’s favorite. His last apprentice. All your time at the House, you have been showered with favor and rewards while the rest of us fought for any kind of slight recognition. We fought to make sure we were breathing the next day and you… you were above us all. Perhaps the Principle Master will let you keep your pet after all. She can stay in your room and pleasure you whenever you want a good fuck. Her screams are quite loud. But I’m sure you already know that. You will have to teach her to be quiet or gag her. Don’t worry though, during her time with me, she is used to being tied up and gagged.” He grabbed her hair and tilted her head up to glare into her upturned face. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

“Do not harm her.” Jaqen growled, voice low and cold as ice. He stilled the tremor in his hands… hands ready to choke the life out of  his brother for the pain he caused his lovely girl and his sister. This was no longer the brother he grew up with, something had changed in him. _Why, brother?_ “This is between you and me.”

“Is it though? I’ve grown fond of her…perhaps we can share her.” With his other hand, the tattooed man wrapped it around Arya’s throat. He eyed her, the panic on her face, before turning back to smirk at Jaqen.

“Let her go. NOW!” Jaqen hissed through his clenched teeth. He took a step forward, ready to intervene. No more of this. He had remained near the door, worried to move closer for fear of her safety. No more. This had to end.

In a flash, the English assassin released Arya’s throat and had his pistol pointed directly at Jaqen’s head. All three froze. The friction thick in the air. Waves of hostility rolled off the two men and crashed against each other in the middle of the room. A storm brewed, the power striking like lightening. A long second later, the pistol drifted over until it was pressed against Arya’s temple. She stiffened against the cold metal, her head still pulled back.

“Would you beg for her life, brother? Would you beg to save your pet?”

It took everything for Jaqen to not rush over and kill his brother. She must live. Whatever happens, she deserved life. He promised to protect her. “Yes.” He growled out.

“Love is weakness. At least the Order got that right.” The English assassin scoffed.

“Maybe it was right of our sister to reject you then.”

He snarled at Jaqen. “If I cannot have the one I love, why should you? Life is pain. Love is useless. All that matters is watching life leave the one you just gifted death to. That is truth. That is real. Life and death. That is all there is.”

As Jaqen and the assassin talked, Arya’s initial panic and fatigue ebbed until her brain was able to somewhat think rationally. _Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. What would Jaqen tell me to do in this situation?_ A revelation flashed in her mind’s eye, leaving her gob-smacked and worried for the consequences if discovered. Trying to shift subtly and bring her right foot closer and her bound hands towards her boot, she desperately hoped her captor was to focused on his own anger and Jaqen. Needle was still strapped inside her boot. Practicing on her own and with Jaqen, she had gotten good at quickly pulling it out and being ready to defend herself. Could she use it now? Would that help or hinder? Was there a way to let Jaqen know? A piece of her mind was shocked by the fact that the tattooed man clearly did not see her as a threat to check her for weapons. His mistake. Hoping that Jaqen would notice, she began tapping on her boot silently. Her head was still tipped back, neck straining at the uncomfortable position. Her abductor’s hand held her hair tightly at the base of her head. Her eyes smarted with tears but she blinked them away. There was no way to signal Jaqen before she made a move. There was no way for him to let her know if this was even a good idea. Something had to happen soon. The conversation was deteriorating and soon someone was going to end up dead. She only hoped it was the tattooed man.

The English assassin’s smugness returned. “Were you going to tell your pet the truth… you know who paid to have her father killed? Or were you going to keep that secret from her?” He loosened his grip on her hair marginally and tipped her head back so she could see Jaqen.

All thoughts of escape halted in her mind. _What? No, that can’t be true._ Deep down she had hoped the tattooed man was lying, that Jaqen would not keep this from her. The wince and look of pure regret and guilt on his face told her a different story. A fresh wave of pain and torment coursed through her. Their eyes locked, stormy steel meeting burning bronze. Her voice cracked but it reflected the pain within her. “Why?”

“I planned on speaking to you of this. I swear, Arya.”

“When?”

“Schöne Mädchen…”

“Why wait? Tell her now, brother.”

Jaqen glared at the English assassin. “Not like this. This…not like this.”

“You might not get another chance.”

“Please, Lukas…” Arya pleaded softly.

He hesitated, absorbing her hurt so evident on her face and voice. Rubbing a hand over his mouth and chin, he wondered if he would regret this. There were reasons he kept this from her for now. He planned on telling her when he could help and showing her the information gathered. If she desired, he would not just kill Baelish but also destroy his reputation. This was now a part of his brother’s game… a way to hurt Jaqen by confessing to Arya his secret. Better to do it quick like ripping a Band-Aid off. He stared into her eyes, knowing the revelation was going to shake her world and her trust. “Petyr Baelish.”

Her jaw dropped. All thoughts, all emotions were drowned by the name spoken. She hated the man but this…never would she have considered him that nefarious…that evil. A choking gasp tore out of her throat once her body remembered to breathe. All the years that conniving bastard spent in her family’s home, comforting her mother, helping the family, being a friend. He tore her family apart. He carved the black hole into her life and had the balls to sit back and watch.

Fury is a strange emotion. It both fills and empties a person. It fills the person with undiluted rage and desire for revenge. It seeps into the blood, setting it afire until only the cold of revenge can sate it. Yet it empties the person of other rational emotions and thoughts. Leaving the person with only one thought, one purpose- to cause such wanton pain and destruction that the victim will never be the same. This type of fury consumed the soul if left unchecked and drove a person to madness. Nothing else could satisfy but vengeance. Nothing else could fill the pain but the blood of the one deserving.

Arya could feel it setting her blood afire. She was not a warrior, to come out with guns blazing to kill anyone who tried to stop her. No, she was a college student who knew some self-defense. That did not matter. She would avenge her father, if it took her last breath, it would be worth it. Petyr Baelish…that bastard…she would make sure he was sent to the deepest depths of all seven hells for what he did to her family. First though, she had to make it out of this motel alive.

“Would you like help killing him?”

Arya stiffened and glanced up at the man beside her. His whisper shot through her mind like a bullet. He looked down at her with a single eyebrow raised. There was no malice or amusement in his voice. It felt almost like a genuine concern and an offer to help alleviate her torment. If he helped her, it would surely get done. He was an assassin. He would know how to cover their tracks so no one would suspect him. Having been with him the past several hours, she guessed he would not shy away from helping her inflict pain to Baelish before killing him. Her mind could see it. The temptation…the death to the one who destroyed her childhood. It would be so easy to say yes. A part of her demanded to. Yet she also hated the man beside her. He had killed her father. He had pulled the trigger. Could she trust him? Did she want to trust him? She wanted him dead. But whose death did she desire more, the assassin’s or Baelish’s?

“Brother…” Jaqen softly said but was interrupted.

The handgun disappeared from her temple and the tattooed man turned her face so his dark eyes beheld hers. A strange sincerity floated in them, a rawness that unnerved her. “I can help you. Come with me, sweet girl. Together we can bring vengeance to all who have betrayed us.”

“Stop this madness!”

The English assassin’s gaze turned cruel, upper lip raised in a snarl, turning back to his brother. “Or what? She can choose…love or revenge. I can promise her revenge. What can you do? Or do you fear she will leave you and choose me?”

The sweet hints of revenge tantalized Arya, Jaqen could see it in her eyes. This was one of the reasons he delayed telling her. She was pure and precious. Blood did not need to stain her hands. He would gladly give the gift of death for her. Now her eyes gleamed at the thought of ending Baelish’s life, of hearing him beg for mercy. It would be reckless of her now to try and fulfill her lust for his death. She would make a mistake, she would get caught. The offer his brother gave her was valid but his soul wept with the thought she may choose revenge over him. Would she? Which emotion, which desire was more powerful? Love or revenge? Which one soothed the turmoil and pain lingering in her heart? He had to end this conversation, he had to get her out of here. His brother was still masterfully playing his game, trying to draw a wedge between Jaqen and Arya. Forcing him to confess, chipping away her trust in him, to what end though? How would this end? Whose death would be payment for their time? His brother still glared, a malicious sneer twisting his lips at seeing Jaqen’s unease. Purposefully Jaqen took a step forward, maintaining eye contact. With that movement, chaos erupted.

 With the assassins distracted, Arya made her move. It was foolish but she could not sit here and listen anymore. The walls were closing in around her. She had to get out. In the blink of an eye, she withdrew Needle with her bound hands from her boot and stabbed it into the top of the tattooed man’s foot next to her. Immediately she rolled to escape his wrath. His cry of pain bounced off the walls of the room and her mind. Before he could swing his pistol around and kill her, Jaqen tackled him onto the bed.

The pistol flew out of his brother’s hand. It was not enough. “Arya, run!” Jaqen cried as he dodged the punch to his face. In his peripheral vision, he saw her slip into the corner of the room. _Laufen, Arya, raus!_ He tried to wrap his hands around his brother’s throat but to no avail. Too many years they had spent training together. Too many times they had sparred until they could almost anticipate the other’s moves. The English assassin managed to throw Jaqen off him enough to quickly land a punch to his side. Pain radiated through his ribs, but the sensation was quickly blocked out as Jaqen retaliated. He reached for his own knife as his brother ripped the knife from his foot. The next few seconds were flashes of movements as they each tried to stab and slash at the other. There was no time for thinking, only instincts and reactions. Block. Slash. Pain. Blood. Slash. Kick. Another cry but of fury sounded out of the English assassin as he kicked Jaqen’s knee, forcing him back and over the bed. They now stood half crouched on either side of the motel bed. Chest heaving. Beads of sweat glistened their foreheads. The wrath Jaqen had suppressed flooded his mind. Red clouded the edges of his sight. His brother would not leave here alive. He would pay for the pain he had caused. _Is this what you wanted, brother?_ Blood seeped into Jaqen’s jacket from the cut he received on his shoulder. His brother smiled, blood marring the white of his teeth making him look like a man possessed. Jaqen tightened the grip on his knife. He had to end this. There was no more time. He shifted, prepared to attack. Suddenly, as if in slow motion, his brother jerked as the sound of thunder filled the room.

Arya’s hands were raised in front of her, pistol straight out like Jaqen taught her on their Valentine’s Day date. Her feet planted to the green carpet, standing in the corner. Wisps of smoke tendrils danced around the end of the pistol. A sickly, sweet smell infused her senses. Her eyes remained glued to where her shot had disappeared. His black shirt masking the splash of red blood. _I am a Stark. I am not helpless._

With the hesitation, Jaqen sprang his attack. He leapt over the bed, knife ready for the coveting of life blood. His brother tried to twist away but it was a split second too late. Jaqen drove his knife through his brother’s throat. Blood splattered on his face as the two assassins fell onto the wall beside the bed. The wall shook with the impact. Recovering quickly, Jaqen jumped up to stand over his brother. The English assassin slid down the wall until he slumped on the ground. Those dark eyes stared at Jaqen, the corners of his lips turned up. A stream of blood eased out of his mouth. _Why, brother? Why did it come to this?_

A sharp intake of air caused Jaqen to whirl around. Arya had not moved, the pistol still pointed at her abductor like she feared he would rise and come for her. In three strides, Jaqen stood before her. Cautiously and wordlessly, he relieved her of the pistol.

“Arya, look at me.”

His command shook her. She blinked, eyes focusing on him. Without warning, she threw herself against his chest, desperately needing his touch to ground her and to reassure her. His arms enveloped her without hesitation, the scent of leather and cinnamon filling her. He pressed her head to his chest as her body began to shake, murmuring soothingly in both German and English. No tears were shed. She had none left. The adrenaline, the stress, her fears all fought to escape her body simultaneously, making her body quiver with the onslaught of released energy.

Once her breathing began to slow and her body ceased its shaking, Jaqen tilted her face up to meet his. Her eyes were wide but strength remained there. In the midst of chaos and death, she had remained strong and unbroken. _Meine Herzallerliebste. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you._ She looked at him with such trust and devotion. He only wished he had earned it. Now, they needed to leave. It was no longer safe here. “Can you walk?”

She nodded.

“Come, let’s go, lovely girl.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. Rapidly, he unbound her hands, having to push back the surge of anger that rose when saw the damage to her skin from her bonds. There was nothing he could do about that now. He guided her towards the door, a hand on her lower back. A quick glance caused him to freeze. His brother’s head had tilted, glazed eyes staring where Jaqen and Arya had just been standing. In his last moments of life, he had watched Jaqen and Arya embrace. _What did you see, brother? Did you see love as you have never know or experienced?_ Blood trickled out of the English assassin’s mouth and from around the knife in his throat, eye glassy. Swiftly, for not wanting to force Arya to linger here longer than necessary, he strode over and checked for a lack of pulse. Only silence and warmth met his fingers. It was over. Jaqen knew he needed to clean up the evidence, dispose of his brother’s body, cover their track but not with Arya waiting. He would come back. Whatever fury he felt at his brother, there were hints of sorrow too. Once Arya was safe, he would come back and mourn. Tearing his eyes away, he escorted Arya out and to his car in the parking lot. He could feel the droplets of blood on his face, his brother’s blood. Carefully, he tried to wipe off what he could with his sleeve. They tore out of the parking lot, car zooming onto the highway and back towards the Twin Cities.

“You’re hurt.” Arya spoke up after several minutes. Blood stained his leather jacket, a slice showing where his injury lay on his shoulder.

“I’m fine. Just a scratch.”

“It looks like more than a scratch.”

“Are you injured?”

She shook her head. Her wrists hurt from being bound and her muscles ached but it all felt superficial after what just occurred. Never before had she witnessed someone killed in front of her. Even if she hated the person…it still left an unsettling feeling in her stomach. How easy it was for life to leave one’s body. There was one though whose death she needed to witness. One more death to avenge her family. She reached over and grabbed Jaqen’s hand, the strength and pressure against her palm bringing her comfort.

“It’s over, Schöne Mädchen. He can’t hurt you.”

Was she truly safe though? Jaqen was not so sure. The rest of the drive was passed in silence. Their own thoughts whirling in their minds but hands clasped in-between. A tether to their separate realities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with writing this because I still wanted to keep the humanity in the English brother/Handsome Man and not make it seem like he was a sadistic psychopath. I hope his motivations for kidnapping Arya came through and show hints of his own personal struggle that has been occurring during this story. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! If you are confused, feel free to leave a comment and i'll try to explain better. Y'all are the best!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a bit shorter than the usual. That's why I posted a chapter yesterday. Anyway, hope you enjoy. :)

 

Arya barely had time to get out of Jaqen’s car before Jon swept her up into his arms. Tears prickled her eyes. She took a deep breath as she relaxed into his embrace. This was Jon, her brother. He would always look out and care for her. Pressing her face against his chest, she could hear him murmuring after kissing the top of her head. She did not realize how much she needed to see Jon and be comforted by him. Her hands fisted in his sweater but he did not seem to mind. His arms around her held her steady and close. She could not imagine the turmoil he suffered through over the past hours. His hair was a mess, there were shadows under his eyes. Her heart ached for him. She squeezed him harder, trying to reassure him. “I’m here. Its ok. I’m here.”

“Thank the old gods and the new. You’re alright.” He leaned back to look at her as if confirming  that she truly was in his arms. A sad smile lingered on his lips. “I was so worried. Gods, Arya, I thought I had lost you.”

“It’s over. I’m here.” She could faintly see his eyes watering and if he started crying, she would definitely start crying and she was not sure she had any tears left in her. _No more tears. I am a Stark. I am strong. I have cried enough._

Over his shoulder, she spied Gendry staring at her with such obvious relief. It twisted her heart. Giving Jon one more quick hug, she stepped to the side and approached Gendry. He stood frozen as if seeing a ghost. His eyes were red-rimmed. Whatever happened between them, the rejection and offenses could wait. Now was a moment to appreciate life and reconciliation. She wrapped her arms around him, the feeling of his presence nostalgic. After a momentary hesitation, he gave her a bone-crushing hug.

“I’m so sorry, Arya. I’m so sorry.” Gendry gasped.

“It’s not your fault. I’m ok.”

“We should have been there…you shouldn’t…I’m so sorry.”

They held each other for another moment before releasing, more reluctantly on his part. She turned, seeking the one person who mattered more to her in the world. Bronze eyes met hers and she moved to take his outstretched hand, letting him tuck her against his side.  

“Let’s go inside.” Jon commented, clasping a hand to her shoulder. On the drive over, her eyelids refused to stay open. It felt like whatever power source she was used to being connected to suddenly shut off. Her muscles moved as if through molasses. Pure exhaustion coursed through her, threatening to drag her under. She followed as Gendry led them inside. The chill of the winter air suppressed once inside. The last rays of the evening sun shown through the window. She was safe. Jaqen was safe. The worst was over.

Holding her, Jaqen sensed the faint trembling in Arya. A few times she had nodded off on the drive down then immediately jerked awake. She needed sleep. Hopefully that sleep would be restful and not plagued by nightmares as her mind came to terms with what happened to her today. He wished he could stay with her and protect her from the memories. There were things that needed to be tended to though. Disposing of the body, cleaning up the blood and wiping away all evidence of their presence at the motel…his next several hours were going to be draining. _Why, brother? Why this?_ His English brother…dead…by his hands. It struck a chord within him. He did not regret his actions for he was protecting Arya and promised to pay back the pain she suffered under his watch…but it was still his brother.

They stepped inside the two-story house, Jon offering to get them something to eat or drink. Arya leaned against Jaqen, his arm around her small waist. If only this moment could last.

“Schöne Mädchen.” Jaqen looked down at her. “Go sleep. You’re tired.”

“What about you?”

“I have to take care of something.”

“Please don’t go.” She draped her arms around him. He could not leave her now. Did he not know how much she needed him right now?

He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I promise I’ll come right back. Sleep. When you wake, I’ll be there.”

“Ok…then you owe me some explanations.”

“As you wish, Mein Liebling.” He ran a hand over her cheek, the small crosshatch scar a reminder of their journey together. He saved her from one pain, but only brought another kind to her. Was she truly safe with him around? “Gendry, will you escort her somewhere to sleep?”

“Sure.” Gendry replied, standing nearby, arms crossed. A surprised look crossed his face at Jaqen’s request but he quickly masked it before looking softly at her. “Come on, Arya. Let’s get you upstairs.”

“I love you.” Arya kissed Jaqen, lamenting leaving him but understanding. He promised to come back. She hurt for him with what he was going to have to do but wondered if he needed some space to process. Before following Gendry upstairs, she gave Jon another hug.

Jon reciprocated the hug, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “Sleep in my bed. I’ll take the floor.”

She nodded then followed Gendry. Exhaustion sucked all her energy from her. Each step up the stairs felt like a challenge. As soon as her head hit Jon’s pillow, sleep overtook her.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.” Jaqen stated, eyes trailing after Arya as she ascended the stairs. “Someone needs to stay with her until I return.”

“Of course.” Jon’s probing eyes turned to stare at Jaqen, a subtle ferocity in his voice. “Is she safe now or is this going to happen again?”

“I won’t let this happen again.”

Jon grunted, a long pause then he spoke again. “We’ll leave the side door unlocked for you. My room is the last door on the right.”

“Thank you.” Jaqen nodded his head in acknowledgment before turning and walking out to his car. The weight of everything hit him. Some of the things his brother said bounced around his mind, unsettled and stinging. There were questions he needed answers to. There were truths he needed to confirm. He hardened his heart for what most of the night would entail. He knew what he needed to do. There was no turning back now.

 

* * *

 

The darkness of her memories waited at the edges of her conscience but did not affect her sleep. A dreamless night rewarded her. Her eyes cracked open to the sunlight trying to slip through the blinds. _How long did I sleep?_ Her arms and back ached fiercely, her wrists felt raw. A groan escaped her as she rolled onto her back from her side.

“Guten morgan, lovely girl. How do you feel?”

Arya eased up a little to see Jaqen sitting on the end of the bed, his back against the wall the bed was pressed against. “I’m good.”

He quirked an eyebrow, catching her lie.

She groaned again, rubbing her sleepy eyes. “Fine. Everything hurts, well mostly my shoulders and arms.”

“Roll over.” Jaqen moved until he knelt over her. As she laid on her stomach, he began massaging her back and arms. He savored every touch, every soft sigh that slipped past her lips. His siren. His love. He would do anything to keep her safe. Even rip his own beating heart out to sacrifice it for her. Which he might have to.

When he finished, she tugged him under the covers with her. The twin size bed had enough room for them to lie on their sides facing each other.

“Have you slept at all?”

He brushed back a few loose strands of hair from her face, content to just watch her. “No. I can sleep later. Do not worry for me.”

“You’re my boyfriend, it’s my job to worry about you.” She teased.

 _Boyfriend…what an inaccurate word for the strength of our affections._ He kissed the tip of her nose, causing her to wrinkle it in a delightful way that made him smile.

They lay together in silence for a time, listening to each other breath and soaking in the other’s presence. The sun’s rays brightened the room but neither moved. It was their first moment of peace and solace in the last twenty-four hours.

Eventually Arya broke the tranquility with her whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me about Baelish?”

“I feared you would go after him recklessly if I told you.”

“You still should have told me. I had a right to know.”

He sighed, rubbing his mouth and chin. “I know. I apologize. I thought I was protecting you.”

“I get it, even if I hate it. How about no more secrets between us?” She scooted closer, pressing her face against his chest. Her pointer finger twirled around his white forelock.

How could he promise that? He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, pulling her closer to him. The sunlight was an indicator that his time was draining away. His time was ending. He would need to leave soon. Closing his eyes, he soaked in everything about this moment. The warmth of her lithe body against his. Her steady breathing and heartbeat. The faint scent of lavender in her soft hair that he enjoyed running his hands through. The feeling of wholeness when in her presence. She was his beating heart. Meine Herzallerliebste _._ She was safe. Here, danger’s grasp on her was nonexistent. She was free. Her life was limitless. It was time. The sun called to him.

“I have a present for you.” He disentangled himself and slid over her off the bed. Next to the closed bedroom door, he left a manila envelope, leaning against the wall. Grabbing it, he sat on the edge of the bed. Arya moved next to him perplexed. That small furrow between her eyebrows, her lips pursed slightly…he pressed a kiss to her temple, hoping to never forget anything about her. He handed the manila envelope to her, conscious of what his actions meant. It was right though, to give her control. This was her pain she needed to heal from.

“This is everything I could find on Baelish, proving his corruption…proof of his payment for your father’s death.”

Arya paused from pulling out the papers as his words sunk in. What he was giving her would destroy Baelish if these papers came to light. It was not a insignificant amount of forms but suddenly their weight increased in her hand. She could damage his reputation, his livelihood, put him in prison with this information. Is that what she wanted? Her eyes flickered to Jaqen, his face expressionless as he watched her reaction. She tipped the envelope to pull out some more papers. To her surprise, a small, dark vial rolled into her hand. The vial fit in the palm of her hand, liquid sloshing around inside.

“What is this?”

“Poison.”

Her head whipped up to stare at Jaqen. _Poison? Why is he giving me poison?_

“When a man’s sister came to visit, she left an extra vial. This poison is powerful. It hinders a person’s breathing so they feel like they are suffocating but a toxin to the heart causes a heart attack. It is untraceable and the effects appear as a natural heart attack. It is best delivered by having the person drink it without their knowledge. It does not take long for the effects to kick in.”

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“If you desire to kill Baelish yourself… I will do everything to make sure you are not suspected. This gives you anonymity. Use it.”

She nodded, looking back down at it. The vial contained death…death by her hand and choosing. “When can we use it? What’s the plan?”

“This is for you to use. You are smart. Be patient. Think before you act.” He slid off the bed to kneel in front of her, imploring her with his gaze. “Promise me you will stay safe. After this death you will be free to live.”

“I promise…won’t you be there to help?”

He slowly shook his head, cupping her cheek with his hand. “No, Mein Liebling…this you must do without me.”

“Why does this sound like you are saying goodbye?” She teased but her words fell flat.

His lips stayed shut, hand caressing the one who held his heart. Words were not enough. Their time together was not long enough.

“Lukas…what…no!” She shoved the envelope and vial next to her on the bed, all but forgotten as her eyes searched his face for the truth. This had to be some kind of sick joke. He could not be leaving her…not now. “You’re leaving me?”

“I must.” Those two words felt like punches to his gut as he uttered them. How he hated the truth in them.

“No…no. You don’t have to. We’re safe now… he is dead. It’s ok. We are safe, right?” She babbled out, her words hitting the floor empty. _This can’t be happening. Please no. This can’t be happening._

“Lovely girl…others will come. It’s not safe for you to be with me.”

“Let them come! They can’t separate us!”

He grabbed her face, forcing her misty eyes to meet his. “No! I will not sit back and watch you go through this pain again. I will do anything to keep you safe…even if it means leaving.”

“Please, Lukas. Don’t do this.” She begged. Her heart fractured within her. Her mind scrambled to both accept and reject what he was saying. There had to be a way. There had to be something they could do. “Let’s run away together. We can hide. We can go anywhere as long as we’re together. It doesn’t matter. Please.”

He had to stay strong and resolute. This separation was the best for them. It would keep her safe…even if his heart felt dead at the thought of leaving her. Her pleading, that desperation in her voice wrecked him. He grabbed her and pulled her into his embrace. He needed to leave soon. His flight would be leaving in a couple hours. Pressing his head to the top of hers, he felt her shoulders shaking as soft sobs flooded out of her. Seeing and feeling her heartbreak, his own composure shattered. Tears slipped down his cheeks. He wanted to scream at the unfairness in his life, to demand restitution. How could he find the one who completed him, who brought him life anew to only be ripped away from her? With everything he had endured, why would this one good thing be torn away from him? He pulled her closer, wishing to imprint her touch onto his soul further. His own quivering surprised him. The magnitude of his turmoil, pain and regret overwhelming him. They stayed holding each other as if their physical grip could save them from the inevitable. Arya mumbled pleadings in-between her sobs. The words almost incoherent. Jaqen just held her, tears flowing freely. Finally he eased back, hating himself for having to hurt her like this.

Reluctantly, she let her arms drop from being around him. Her shoulders slumped. Eyes unable to focus from the tears blurring them. She closed her eyes, desperately hoping this was a terrible nightmare. If only she could wake. Then her heart would not feel as if broken into a million pieces. It would not feel like she lost a part of herself and she could never be complete again. The very thought of life without Jaqen…the sun in her life was gone. He could not leave her. She needed him. He was her protector. His heart was her home. His embrace was her place of safety and joy. This could not be. Her eyes fluttered open when she felt Jaqen drop something in one of her hands. Looking down, she saw her necklace with his coin in her palm. Seeing the despair and torment mirrored on his own face, she felt it in the deepest parts of her soul. He was leaving. She would be alone.

“Look at me.” He commanded, his voice deceptively steady. Once she met his eyes, he continued. “Never doubt my love for you, lovely Arya. You mean everything to me. You are the most important person to me. I will not allow harm to come to you. You will always be the one my heart beats for.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

He started to get up but she threw her arms around his neck, another wave of despair crashing over her. “I love you, Lukas. I love you so much.” Her lips sought his, a passionate, desperate kiss that tasted of their tears. His mouth responded, opening and pulling her in deeper. It did nothing to numb the pain, only stirring their hearts with longing.

Breaking the kiss, he quickly slipped out of her arms. If he did not leave now, he would never be able to escape his siren’s call. He rose and stepped back towards the door.

As his hand touched the doorknob, her body reacted without conscious though. She flew across the room and slammed his back against the door. Her arms wrapped around him in a vice-like grip as her mouth searched for his once more. Breathing failed. Heart beating ceased. The only thing keep her alive was his touch, his presence, his love. The kiss was sloppy, both fighting the overwhelming emotions. Their tongues danced as their breath and tears intermingled. Without warning, Jaqen turned and pressed her against the door. The wood bit into her back at the firm pressure. His arms around her threatened to break her ribs but she did not care. The physical pain was minor compared to what her heart suffered now. A frenzy swallowed them, kisses consuming, touches burning. Their bodies morphed into one with the force of their contact. Breathing was nonexistent. Why would they need air when only the touch of the other kept them alive? Her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands in his hair, pulling him deeper. His body pinned her to the door, one hand holding her steady, the other dancing about from her hair to her neck and back. A fire blazed through them. Their last touch…these final moments…forever burned into their souls. Tears still freely flowed, the only thing quenching their fire.

“Please don’t leave.” Arya pleaded one last time.

He pressed his forehead to hers, a hand cupping her cheek. “Schöne Mädchen…when it is safe, I will come for you. I know not when…but I will find you. Then we can be together if you still want me.”

“I’ll always want you.”

“Dein ist Mein genzes Herz.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, a seal of his promise. “I am yours and you are mine.” He would return to her one day. He did not know how but he would. Carefully, he walked back over to the bed, her still wrapped around him. Neither ready to let go but time demanded it. Slowly he lowered her to the bed as their lips lingered in a final, soft kiss. A baring of their souls, an entwining of their hearts, a seal of hope.

“I’ll wait for you.”

He pressed a kiss to both of her hands. “Live your life until then. Be happy. You deserve life.” A finally lingering look passed then Jaqen released her hands and swept out of the room, closing the door behind him. Leaving his heart behind that door. He wiped the tear tracts from his face as he straightened his shoulders. He had to keep her safe. Whatever it took. Then one day he would return to her, he promised himself.

Arya watched the door close behind Jaqen, hearing the click resounded like the click of a coffin lid around her heart. Truly alone now, strength fled her weary form. She crumbled to the floor. Screams and sobs tore out of her in equal passion. Love was a beautiful thing, it filled in the color in a black and white world and brought out the sun on a cloudy day. Yet it ripped her heart and soul apart once yanked from her. She clutched Jaqen’s coin like a lifeline. She would not forget him. She would wait. Her tears threatened to drown her as she wept over the absence of Jaqen in her life. Never had she felt so alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what y'all think.  
> Next week the FINAL chapter will be posted. Hang in there guys, we are almost done.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter but I will also be posting an epilogue also...because I need my babies to be happy alright? Is that just too much to ask? :D

 

It took hours before Arya voluntarily chose to leave Jon’s room. At some point Jon slipped in, not uttering a word, and held her. Her tears had ceased except for a few remaining sniffles. He just allowed his presence to fill the void, never asking any questions as if he knew or suspected. She wondered if Jaqen had said something to him before leaving. _Leaving…Jaqen is gone…for who knows how long._ It still hurt, like her heart was no longer in her chest but she held on to his promise. He would come back for her. He promised. With that, she let it fuel her to rise up…to move beyond her pain…to push through the fear that waited in the shadows for her…to take back her life and be stronger for it. She was a Stark. She kicked life in the teeth and told it to move out of her way.

Later that day, Jon brought Arya back to her apartment where Shireen waited for her. It was good to see her friend was doing well and not too plagued by the incident. Shireen fussed over her like a mother hen and Arya allowed it for once. It probably helped alleviate some of Shireen’s guilt. Gendry and Tommen both wanted to report what happened to the police but Arya stood firm and declined. Jaqen’s statement that others would come settled in the back of her mind, flashing like a neon sign. They did not need to give the Faceless Men a reason to come. She did not want her friends and family coming to harm. Over the next few days she did pour obsessively over newspapers and local online news for any hint of the tattooed man’s body being found or whispers of the fight that occurred in the motel. Nothing ever surfaced that she could find. An invisible weight came off her shoulders once she came to terms. Maybe they really were safe.

The next day, after Jaqen left, her feet guided her to his office as if on their own accord. There was no point to come. He was gone. Something though within her needed to check…to confirm. In her mind’s eye, she could see him sitting in that stupid, squeaky chair she knew he hated but never complained about out-loud. The light from the window behind him casting shadows on his face as he smiled at her. She would take her spot on the ugly couch or on the edge of his desk as they ate the lunch she brought them to share. It amazed her how often he forgot to eat during the day. All his focus and concentration would be on his work. His white forelock drifting across his cheek while his bronze eyes stared at the papers before him as if solving the world’s riddles. She loved to just watch him. He would rub his hand over his mouth and chin if particularly frustrated or thinking hard. Sometimes he would push his sleeves up and, gods above, she would ogle his forearms. How was it possible for forearms to be so attractive? Then if he caught her staring, he would give her a wink, making her blush. She might make a sarcastic comment or push him but he always snatched her hand and kissed her quickly, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Her mind dragged her out of her memories as she approached his office door. It was open and voices echoed out. This was pointless. It was stupid to come. Yet her feet pulled her forward. Brad sat in his chair while Jessica sat on the couch and Margaery sat in Jaqen’s chair. _Jaqen’s chair!_ All three briefly looked up at her in surprise when she tentatively took a step inside. Arya’s eyes scanned Jaqen’s desk quickly but there was nothing there. _I doubt there is even a fingerprint._

“Arya, everything ok?” Jessica hesitantly inquired, her kind eyes watching Arya. She gave a shy smile but it was tainted with sadness. They knew. They had all seen Jaqen and Arya together.

“When did he leave?”

Her voice sounded cold and detached, surprising even herself. Before Jessica could respond, Margaery spoke up, voice smug and eyes mocking.

“He didn’t tell you? Poor little girl.” She placed a hand over her ample bosom with fake sincerity. “He left a letter yesterday saying there was a family emergency back home that required him to return immediately. We came in and his stuff was gone. I guess you must have not been that important if he didn’t even tell you he was leaving.”

It took a second longer than normal for the words to sink into Arya’s muddled brain. _Oh hells no!_ Propriety be damned. She would not tolerate the insult. In two long strides, Arya stood over Margaery and pulled her fist back. Before either Brad or Jessica could react, Arya’s fist collided with Margaery’s perfectly manicured eye and whipped her head back. Jessica grabbed Arya’s shoulders and pulled her back while Brad moved to Margaery’s side.

“You should go.” Jessica whispered, before stepping past her.

Satisfied, Arya left. The whimpers and explicit words that flew out of Margaery’s mouth followed Arya out the door and down the hallway. Her heart still hurt, but she refused to let anyone run her over or bad mouth Jaqen. Realistically, he would probably have been displeased with her lack of self-control, raising his eyebrow and looking down his nose at her. Yet there would have been a twinkle in his eyes that approved of her solid hit. There would be colorful bruises around Margaery’s eye for some time to mar her attempt at a perfect façade. Arya flippantly wondered if she would be suspended but realized she did not care. The tenderness and bruised knuckles on her hand never registered in her mind as she ambled away.

After leaving Jaqen’s office, she jumped on the Campus Connector bus. Her heart pounded as she walked towards his apartment. Snow sat piled on either side of the sidewalk, the cold seeped through her coat but she continued on. She had to make sure. Luckily there was no one in the elevator or hallway as Arya approached. The idea of having to fake small talk made her cringe. She just wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Pulling the spare key out of her pocket, she tried to ignore the faint tremble in her hand as she unlocked the door. Her breath clung in her chest as her eyes surveyed around for any sign of Jaqen or his presence. It looked like everything had been cleaned and disposed of that even gave the hint someone had been there for the past seven months. The flannel blanket he kept on the back of the couch for when they watched movies or TV was gone. The pictures she gave him to remind him of his home were no longer on the counter. The silly hand towel they found three weeks ago that said ‘kiss the cook’ was no longer on the handle of the oven. The beloved French press was gone.

Memories of all their times in the apartment, cooking and talking, him helping her with homework or sipping on coffee together flooded her mind. The morning she woke up after Ramsay’s attempted rape, standing on the deck with a mug of coffee in hand watching the sun rise over the Minneapolis skyline…cuddled on the couch under a fleece blanket as she kept peeking to see Jaqen’s reactions to watching the Princess Bride…their almost kiss in the pool where she saw his scars for the first time…the hours upon hours he spent training her, helping her believe in herself…their first kiss, how confused and angry she felt but then overwhelmed by the passion he felt for her and how vulnerable he became. Tears threatened to spill but she held them at bay while the memories assaulted her. Turning towards the bedroom, her body felt magnetized towards it. Thoughts of their intimacy that occurred there warmed her heart. Not just the sex but the times they laid in the dark under the covers sharing secrets. He told her some of his history- the abuse by his parents, the orphanage and then joining the secret group. Her favorite stories were when he spoke of his travels, all the places he had been and things he had seen. She would close her eyes and listen to him weave images in her mind of the places and hear his heartbeat as her head lay on his chest. The way he would absent-mindedly run his fingers through her hair or touch her as if reminding himself she was there.

When she stepped into the bedroom, her eyes zeroed in on the parcels laying on the end of the bed. A piece of paper lay next to them. On the bed lay Needle, cleaned and pristine looking. No hint of blood anywhere. Next to it was his leather jacket folded up. Her fingers tenderly grazed the familiar jacket before she picked up the note.

 

> Lovely Arya,
> 
> Words fail to convey how truly sorry I am for leaving you, especially after what just happened. My only respite is the knowledge you will be safe in my absence. As to the items, I thought of keeping your Needle but did not want to leave you unprotected. Remember to plant your feet, have a firm grip but to breath with your movements. You are strong. Never doubt yourself. The jacket, I selfishly wanted you to have something of mine. Do with it as you wish. Know my love for you will never falter or fade. You are my beating heart. Stay safe, my love. Live life. Find joy. And don’t forget to do your homework. Know you are always in my thoughts.
> 
> Remember my promise, I will come for you when it is safe to be together.
> 
> Lukas
> 
>  

A teardrop splashed on the paper before Arya realized she was crying again. She did not stop it this time. Grabbing his leather jacket, she buried her face into its folds as she slipped to the ground. The smell of leather and cinnamon, the memories of Jaqen, enveloped her as she cried out her final good-bye.

 

* * *

 

Over the next several months and, in certain cases, years, the effects of her kidnapping and all that occurred affected her in unexpected ways. Sometimes nightmares would force her to wake in a cold sweat, heart beating rapidly. Sometimes she was the victim of the tattooed man, sometimes it was friends or family tied to the metal bedframe, but the worst were when she was forced to watch Jaqen killed in that horrible motel room by his brother. She could no longer wear bracelets anymore. Not that she did much anyway. She discovered this when her mother tried to dress her up for an event they were going to and leant her a diamond bracelet. When her mother put it on her, unexpected memories took over her mind. The tightness of the bonds around her wrists, cutting off circulation. The pain and fear as she was forced to sit helplessly for hours. The days after where her wrists were still tender to the touch. Unconsciously and almost immediately, she ripped the bracelet off and flung it across the room as she fought back the haunted sensations and a panic attack. Less unexpectedly, she would not sleep in a bed with a metal bedframe. She could not even touch them without bile rising in her back of her throat and biting her lip then wincing even though her split lip was long healed. Jon, Gendry and Shireen supported her as much as they could, even though she tried to hide her reactions. They never pushed for answers, just silent reminders that she was not alone. The iron coin necklace hardly left her neck and she switched out her usual coat to wear the leather jacket when it got cold.

Jaqen left the end of February and Arya promised herself to finish the school year with the best grades she could, to not wallow in sorrow even if she wanted to. The months dragged by but she tried to get back into the rhythm of college life. Once the weather warmed up, soccer games picked up again with Jon and Gendry’s friends on Saturday mornings. She continued working at the coffee shop and was excited for her friend Brienne when she finally started dating Tormund. From an outside perspective, Arya was adjusting better than expected to life without Jaqen and pushing through the trauma of her abduction. What everyone else did not know was when she was alone, her mind turned dark as she began to plan the death of the man who paid for her father’s murder. She kept the fury at a simmer in her heart, to push her to be strong. Jaqen wanted her to live. Revenge for her father kept her focused on coming back to life.

Her moment came the following year. Every cell of her body wanted to rush to Baelish’s house and stab him repeatedly with Needle, to watch him bleed out and hear him beg for mercy. Jaqen’s words held her back though. _Be patient. Think before you act._ She could not be reckless in this. Months passed as she observed him more diligently than before. She learned his schedule, his habits, and going to his house frequently with her mother for events to infused herself into his world. A plan took form, bringing a sense of revelry with it. So many times she opened her mouth to tell Jon but then would clamp it shut. This was her mission. This was her kill. Jaqen gave this information to her. The less people involved, the safer it would be.

It was a late summer evening. Baelish had thrown a large socialite party at his expensive home. While guests were entertained by the festivities, Arya slipped upstairs like a shadow. She had made friends with Baelish’s housekeeper and learned the man had a particular favorite wine he always partook in before retiring for the night. Silently, she slipped into Baelish’s private office, having discovered and stolen his spare set of keys weeks before. The bottle of red wine sat on the hutch, a glass next to it already. Arya slipped gloves on, opening the bottle and poured the contents of the small black vial in. Thank the gods above, the bottle was only about a third full. She was not sure how much Baelish needed to consume for the poison to affect him. Finished, she slipped back out and joined the party before anyone even realized she had vanished. Now to wait.

 Hours later, she returned. The house was dark except for a light coming from Baelish’s private office. Using the spare key to let herself in through the side, she quickly turned off the alarm nearby. It had only taken twice “accidently” tripping it while over to manage to see the code to deactivate and reactivate it. Her head pounded louder than the silent footsteps up the stairwell. _Am I too late? Am I too early?_ On nights that Baelish was home, he would retire to his private office at 9:30PM sharp. He would sip his glass of wine and finish up any last minute things before turning to his bedroom sometime after 10PM. Arya had taken a stab in the dark about the timing of the poison and when best to arrive. Currently it was almost 10PM, the bus she took had running late. Now she worried she would walk into his office and find his dead body. Which was the plan for him to die. But she wanted to see his face…wanted him to know it was her and why. A faint commotion caused her to hurry her pace up the stairs. Wrenching the door open, she saw Baelish sitting at his mahogany desk. Sweat beaded on his forehead, a hand tugged at the collar on his suit shirt, trying to loosen the invisible constraints on his breathing, his cheeks flushed. She was not too late.

“Arya?” He managed to gasp out, eyes widening.

She moved further into the room, eyes fixed on her prey. So many months of planning, so many years of hurt and sorrow…all led down to this.

“What…what are you…doing here? Is your mother…”

“She isn’t here, you sick bastard. Seven hells, you’re obsessed with her. You couldn’t even leave her be with the happiness she found. She had to be just as miserable as you if not willingly in your bed.”

His face reddened and she was not sure if it was from her words or the choking. Both were fine with her. “What…I’m…”

Pulling a piece of paper out of her leather jacket, she slammed it onto the desk where he could easily see it. “You paid to have my father murdered. Don’t try and deny it. I have the proof…and I’ve heard it from the assassin who pulled the trigger. You are nothing but a gods-damned parasite to my family. I hope you burn in all seven hells for this. You deserve far worse.”

He tried to explain, tried to use his honeyed words to manipulate her but there was no air in his lungs to utter anything. Both hands now came around his throat, eyes the side of softballs. His eyes stared at her pleading for help but a wall of stone would have more empathy than her. He tried to grab his phone but Arya kicked the desk, causing the phone to dance away from his shaking hand. Reaching once more, his chair tipped, dumping him onto the floor. She could hear him gasping, his lungs burning in a desperate search for air. Ever so slowly, she rounded the desk once his gasps slowed. He lay on his side, chair partially over him. Those eyes that witnessed far too much were open and glazed. Mouth that only spewed honeyed words for his own gain was slightly open. Hands that ripped her family apart were fisted as if to fight off the inevitable. She stood above him for several minutes, watching him take his last breaths as the toxin stopped his heart permanently. Slipping a glove back on, she checked for a pulse. Finding none, she turned and left quickly. It was over. Revenge was sated. Making sure to wipe down anything she may have touched, she grabbed her paper off the desk, set the alarm and locked the door before leaving.

It was odd. She expected to find peace after but it eluded her.  Her father was avenged. Yet it felt more like her task was complete. A sigh of relief that her family was safe. Baelish could not harm nor manipulate them anymore. His silent reign of greed, terror and ambition was over.

 

 

Beginning that year, she began to receive small anonymous gifts in the mail. Her first was on her twenty-first birthday. It was three front row tickets to see her favorite band Imagine Dragons. The only thing the note said was ‘happy birthday’. That Christmas she received an exquisite wood chess set with a note that said hand-carved in Spain. A few months later she received a small jade elephant.

She never told anyone but occasionally she could feel eyes on her. As if watching her from afar. Strangely, the presence did not feel unnerving or uncomfortable. It felt more like the warmth of sunshine tickling her skin. It happened only once or twice a year. Whenever she felt it, no matter how quickly she scanned about she could never discover the source. That did not keep the smile from blooming on her face.

When her junior year started up, she surprised everyone by switching her language elective from Spanish to German. Her new language professor praised her on her dedication to learn the language and how quickly she was picking it up. With renewed vigor, she dove into her studies. Junior year passed, followed by her senior year. During that time, Jon moved away to work at The Wall but returned whenever possible to see Arya and Gendry. Gendry chose to stay local and work at the oil refinery. Although they would never be as close as they once were, Arya and Gendry hung out some, watching movies or playing video games. Arya also began to spend more time with Sansa and wished she and her sister had laid their differences aside long ago to have the sister-friendship they now enjoyed. A handful of times Arya begrudgingly allowed Shireen to drag her on double dates, even if she despised them. Shireen had some kind of delusion that without her help, Arya was going to end up as a spinster. For the sake of her friend and to keep up appearances that she did not expect Jaqen’s return, she would go. Most of the guys were nice, attractive but not what she wanted. None of them ever heard back from her. Not even for a one night stand. Someone already owned her heart.

Once graduation came, she left the University of Minnesota with a degree in Psychology and minors in Criminology and German. She spent most of the next year traveling and volunteering. Arya and Shireen spent some time in South Africa then traveled about Southeast Asia volunteering with random connections Shireen had. After Shireen and Tommen eloped and moved to New York. Arya spent the remaining time in Europe exploring on her own, much to her family’s chagrin. At the end, she returned home to make a decision.

 

* * *

 

Arya sat at the kitchen counter in her family’s house. It was late morning on a Saturday. Her mother was drifting around the kitchen finishing making breakfast, as Old Nan had taken the day off. Bran and Rickon would emerge out of their bedrooms once the smell of bacon hit them. Sansa had moved into a townhouse with Sandor a few months prior. There was already talk of a ring coming into the picture soon. Arya munched on her toast, sipping on the coffee from her French press while scanning social media on her phone.

“Are you going to fill out those forms this morning?” Catelyn Stark asked, flipping an egg over, standing in front of the stove.

A stack of forms lay next to Arya’s elbow that called her name. They were entrance forms to a graduate program in Criminology that Arya had been investigating. “I don’t know. I told you about the director I connected with while in Germany. He offered to help me find some student housing while going to school there. He said I could help out with the research he is doing.”

“You need to make a decision soon. It’s almost mid-summer.”

Arya tugged on the sleeve of the red fleece sweater she wore. It was technically a man’s sweater and everyone thought she had swiped it from Jon or Gendry ages ago. They did not know the deeper connection she had to it, nor why she refused to get rid of it. Truthfully she wore it to sleep almost religiously even though it had lost is scent of leather and cinnamon. “I know. I’ll decide before the weekend is over.”

A soft knock on the front door surprised both mother and daughter. Catelyn turned the stove off before she walked towards the sound. As she passed Arya, she squeezed her shoulder. “Whatever you choose, your father would have been proud of you.”

Arya smiled at the thought. It had been seven years from his death now. _I still miss you, father. I hope you’re at peace._

“Is that bacon?” Rickon asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. He reached out to grab a cooked slice set aside on a plate.

“RICKON! Don’t touch the bacon until you’ve washed your hands!” Their mother called around the corner startling Rickon and making him jump away. Arya stifled a snort at the guilty look on her brother’s face. A minute later, Catelyn came back carrying a padded, manila envelope. “It’s for you.”

Arya glanced up at her mother in surprise as Catelyn set the envelope next to her. There was no return address. Nothing to give away who sent it. It had been ten months since her last anonymous gift. Carefully she opened it, holding her breath. When she tipped the envelope a gold key fell into her palm. It had some kind of strange design on the head but otherwise looked…normal. A handwritten note slid out next making her heart stop and the world to fall away.

 

 

> Schönes Mädchen,
> 
> **I am yours** … and I am keeping the promise I made to you. I am free of the Order and can now live a life of my choosing. The flame of my love for you has never wavered. You still hold my heart. Never will I love nor desire another besides you. I wait for you if you still want to be with me. In the envelope is a plane ticket and a key to a home I have purchased for us to start our lives together in. If you choose not to come or another had claimed your affection, then understand I only desire the best life for you possible. If it is with another then I will be content to know you are happy. I know not what this life will hold for us but only that I will forever regret not providing the opportunity to find out together… **and you are mine**.
> 
> Lukas

 

In a delirious haze, Arya reached in the envelope and pulled out the plane ticket. Immediately her eyes were drawn to the destination. Minneapolis to Reykjavík. Her flight was to Iceland. A memory of Jaqen and her on the couch popped into her mind in which she flippantly mentioned always wanting to travel to Iceland but not having anyone to go with her. _Oh gods, he remembered. Three years later and he remembered!_ Her eyes began to mist. She bit her lip to hold back her emotions. The notion that he remembered something so simple yet meaningful to her made her lose her breath.  

“Arya dear, are you alright?”

Her mother’s concerned voice brought Arya back to her surroundings. She felt the tears trying to escape her eyes. “I’m fine.” She hurriedly responded. Eyes scanned the next important thing on the ticket. The flight left Monday morning. Two days. There was no return flight. This was a one-way ticket.

“Well let me know what you decide when you know.” Catelyn was saying, picking up their prior conversation. “You know we will support you whatever you choose.”

“I’m going to Iceland.” Arya whispered, the letter in one hand and the key and ticket in the other.

“What did you say, dear?”

Arya looked up at the confused looks on her mother and brother’s faces. A brilliant, hopeful smile they had not seen in years practically blinded them. “I’m going to Iceland! I leave on Monday!” She announced then raced up the stairs to begin gathering her things. She did not even notice right away the tears of joy dripping off her cheeks onto her red sweater. _I’m going home. I’m finally going to my home._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think?  
> Epilogue is next...


	31. Chapter 31

Epilogue

 

The former Faceless Man stood off to the side of the walkway. His feet firmly planted on the shiny, black floor. His hands casually crossed across his chest. To those walking around him, he appeared relaxed and unconcerned as he waited, but they did not notice how his eyes constantly shifted to scan the faces around him or how tense his jaw was with worry. _Was this a mistake?_ He waited across from the stairs leading to the baggage claim at the Reykjavík airport. His bronze eyes searched those descending the stairs looking for one face in particular. He momentarily worried she would not recognize him. His hair was dyed black now and a short beard accented his strong jawline. It was not an exceptional disguise but it was confirmed that those who would be searching for him believed he was dead. There was still caution to all his actions but the fear of his discovery no longer trailed behind with his every movement. It had been over a year now.

Her flight had landed fifteen minutes ago. Her arrival was imminent…if she was coming. His heart felt raw at the thought he would wait and she would never descend those stairs. It had been nine months since he last saw her. She had been walking across the university campus at Munich with an older, gray-haired professor. Without their knowledge, he followed pretending to be a student heading towards his next class. Ease-dropping, he was pleasantly surprised at how passable her conversational German was now. They were discussing her potential on helping with his research project while she worked on obtaining her Master’s degree while there. At one point, she stopped and glanced around her, a confused look but a warmth to her eyes. Her gaze drifted over him before she returned to conversing with the professor as if nothing happened. The corners of his lips turned up but his stride never faltered. His false face was quite different than the face she was used to. A warmth wormed into his heart at her reaction. Did she sense him? Every time he managed to sneak away from the Order to check on her in person, only happening once or twice a year, if lucky, it became harder to stay away. He desperately missed the feeling of her in his arms, her laughter, her trust and the feeling of completeness with her in his life. Patience was key though. He promised he would return to her. He had every intention to fulfill that promise.

Only through years of training to be Faceless did it keep the nervousness and anxiety from reflecting on his face and posture as he waited now. Streams of returning passengers and their loved ones crossed in front of him. He tried to keep his heartbeat slow and breathing steady. Pressing his lips together in a thin line, his hope slowly started to slip away. Had he been too late? During his time away he had never gotten the impression of another love finding her whenever he saw her or checked her social media. Had he missed something? The promise to walk away if she had found another rang true even if it killed him. He could only wait now…and hope…hope that her love for him burned as strongly as his did.

He thought of the house he had purchased under his new identity. It was a cozy, mid-century modern townhome with large bay windows facing the sunset. It resided just outside the heart of Reykjavík. There was a closed patio in the back that he imagined they would spend hours in, relaxing near the fire he would build to keep the cold away and staring at the stars and Northern Lights when the season was right. He had found a quaint café just a short walk away that he hoped to make a regular spot for them to grab brunch and coffee when they felt too lazy to cook. Knowing her, she would want to visit all the tourist attractions and find out from the locals the best places to go. Whatever she wanted to do, he would happily follow, just to see the joy radiating from her face. At night though, he would pull her into his arms and keep her close, promising to never let her go before he solidly kissed her good-night. There were several flannel blankets waiting for them back at their place along with some trinkets he purchased from his recent trips around the globe that he thought she might like in their home. Everything about the home was a declaration of his love and intention to be with her. If she did not show up…he could not stay in the home designed for the both of them. It would not be complete without her.

 

Ten minutes later his eyes glimpsed something that forced his heart to pound mercilessly within his chest. Without his permission, his feet carried him out of the shadows and into the current. He stood as a solid rock amongst a living stream of people. There was no notice of those stumbling to move around him or throwing curses at him. His gaze was locked on those descending the stairs. As if sensing his look, steel gray eyes flashed up and locked onto his bronze eyes. A heavy moment passed then his feet moved.

Practically shoving people out of her way, Arya maneuvered around them until her feet hit the black floor. Immediately her backpack slipped off the single shoulder and landed solidly on the floor. Its owner took no notice. Once her feet hit the floor, she broke into a run unconcerned of those around her. Her momentum only ceased when she leapt into his arms, her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. His own arms locked around her waist, holding her steady as he pressed his face against her neck. Breathing her in, the scent of lavender filling his nostrils. He took a deep breath. It felt as if it was the first time he breathed fully since leaving her side. They stood still for a long minute, just embracing. The sense of wonder and fulfillment surrounding them. The feeling of finally being home hovering over them. Eventually her feet touched the ground again but their arms remained around one another. People charged around them but the two paid no mind. After three years, the seal of hope they shared was fulfilled. He pressed his lips against her soft ones, claiming her once again as his and declaring him as hers. Eventually he pulled back, wanting to stare into her eyes.

“I love you, Arya.”

“I love you, Lukas.”

His heart felt ready to burst with profound joy. She was here. She had come. He cupped her cheek, eyes watery as they gaze at his siren…his Schönes Mädchen…his beloved.  “Let’s go home.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh guys, I cannot believe this story is complete! I started this back in August with an idea and cannot believe how it has grown! 
> 
> I just want to give a huge thanks to everyone who has bookmarked, subscribed, commented and left kudos on this story, even those of you silently following along. Truly you guys are the best and have been the greatest inspiration to keep my writing. Posting once a week has not always been easy but y'all have been the encouragement to keep me going. So give yourselves a pat on the back. 
> 
> Specific shout-outs to: ewinofthelake, lady_caroline & crystalspark16 for commenting regularly. (if I forgot to mention someone please let me know and i'll add you. I have greatly loved all those who comment and encourage my soul). Also to my girl, GingerFrenchie for always leaving such detailed and amazing comments that always make me smile. (ps. she is also writing an amazing Arya x Jaqen story so go check it out!)  
> Lastly to the amazing Winterlyn_Dow, for her stories being the initial inspiration for this fic. I adore you. Its a fact. 
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think of these last two "chapters" and your overall thoughts on the story. I would greatly appreciate hearing from all of you. Truthfully I will miss posting these weekend updates and hearing from y'all.   
> Maybe I need to write a short chapter about Arya and Jaqen's new life in Iceland? Thoughts on that?
> 
> Anyway, you guys are the greatest! Thank you for taking this journey with me.   
> Now, i am going to mentally prepare for the final season of GoT and be ready to have my heart ripped out. Bring on the angst and turmoil!  
> Megan<3


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